#the more I find out about Lewis Nixon the more I fall a little bit more in love with him and its disconcerting lolol

[luminouslywriting]

Falling asleep on the Bob guys

Nonny, this is such a darling request! Sorry it's taken me so long to get to it :) I hope you really enjoy and are having a great day! Reminder that my requests are open and I love the spam!

Cut for length, paragraph format below:

Dick Winters:

Dick Winters is the type of man to be caught off guard in the softest of ways. He's not expecting you to fall asleep on him and he's still trying to talk over plans when he realizes that you're totally and completely out. It's at this point that he gets this really soft expression on his face and just decides to treasure the moment since you never know what will happen. He stays awake and keeps a wary eye out for any sort of danger that might befall the two of you. And he might murmur a few sweet nothings to you while you're asleep since there's no harm and foul for that.

Lewis Nixon:

Honestly, he's rambling and rambling and is waiting for you to reply to anything that he's said and mid-ramble, he looks down to find you asleep. Kinda makes this amused expression on his face and then presses a short and sweet kiss to your forehead. He's perfectly content as a kitten, curling up and falling asleep next to you. Especially if you're the one who fell asleep first—he's not about to move you or wake you up haha.

Ronald Speirs:

Realizes you're falling asleep very quickly and just goes kinda quiet. He doesn't have the heart to move you or wake you up so he can move, so he just sits there with your head on his shoulder and finally has a minute to just be calm and relax in peace. It's honestly a cathartic experience for him and he gets to reflect on your relationship, which endears the situation even more to him.

Buck Compton:

Gets this really goofy smile on his face at the fact that you're asleep on his shoulder. He absolutely adores seeing you this peaceful and will press a kiss to the crown of your head and snuggle in real close to you. He's the type to probably fall asleep with you, even more cuddled up and practically spooning at that point.

Carwood Lipton:

A softie who softly tells you a story until you are solidly asleep on his shoulder. And then he's slightly blushy and shy about the entire thing, but he's not about to move—he's no idiot. So he just wraps an arm around you and murmurs a soft goodnight. He'll treasure this memory for the rest of his life and wants to wake up next to you every single day henceforth.

Joe Liebgott:

Literally the sassiest mf—the minute that you fall asleep, he's out here glaring at anyone who walks by a little bit too loudly or is talking too much. He'll shush and tell someone to get the hell away from the situation bc no one is about to interrupt your beauty sleep. Not on his watch. He's also slightly smug and definitely thinking about sex in the future and how your married life would be.

Donald Malarkey:

10/10 a great person to fall asleep on. He's a solid choice, if only for the fact that he's ultra respectful and kind about things. He'll sit there patiently and untangle your hair while you're asleep and just relax. It's honestly just as calming getting to be around you while you're asleep and it becomes a tradition between the two of you.

Eugene Roe:

You cannot convince me that he isn't the best choice here. He gets super soft and almost emotional about the fact that you trust him enough to fall asleep near him and on him. He'll murmur lullabies in a half-whisper in French and stroke your hair and rub your back soothingly until you're totally asleep. He absolutely loves you and that'll be the last thing you hear before you're totally out for the count.

Bill Guarnere:

Doesn't realize you've fallen asleep until he turns to hear your reply or comments from a story he's been telling and then realizes that you're totally out. He gets this kinda goofy grin and just snuggles up real close to you. He's very honored that you feel safe enough to fall asleep in his presence—and he's not about to lose that trust for literally anything. You mean the world to him.

Joe Toye:

Slightly panicked?! Which doesn't really make sense, but you're literally asleep and he's just not about to let anyone interrupt that. He'll glare and make menacing motions to anyone who's too loud and he just wants to cuddle up next to you without anyone giving him shit. Not that anyone would—but you know, he's got some worries. Either way, he's real gentle about the entire thing.

George Luz:

Probably happens in a foxhole amidst some jokes and laughs to keep spirits up. And when you don't respond, he gets a little worried and then glances over to find out that you're just asleep on his shoulder. Gets this shit-eating grin on his face and he's definitely gonna tease you about it later (but not in front of anyone else). He's secretly very pleased that you fell asleep on him since he's got a big crush on you anyway haha.

[ronsenthal]

Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Summary: After you helped Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon the word spread and soon enough this captain would come to your office too. 

A/N: First of all, I would like to apologize, this is my first time writing something, I’m pretty nervous and english is not my first language, I’ll just try my best. I had this idea after listening to Blank Space (Taylor’s version) on repeat and also looking for some Speirs info and found out his ridiculously pretty handwriting???? and then I realized that he is so Taylor coded and this came to my mind.

so this one goes out to my fellow BoB lovers who are also Swifties!! Hope y’all enjoy it and if you could leave some feedback I would very much appreciate it.

If only you knew that taking typing classes would lead you to live this life from city to city, seeing horrors, tragedy and pain, feeling cold, hopeless and tired beyond anything you could imagine or explain you would have had second thoughts. But then again, every smile from your friends, every stupid joke they would tell just to lighten the mood, every cup of “coffee” you would share would make it more bearable. “Yes, it was worth it” you told yourself countless nights before falling asleep and dreaming of hope it would all end, if not soon, at some point. 

“Yes, it was worth it” you told yourself after one night that you had too many drinks with Nix, you wish you could tell the same about Dick, but he would never allow himself to do so, but he also enjoyed the night out with his friends. It was only natural that you would end up following those two, after all, with some luck you ended up being assigned to help out Dick with the mess he was making at his office duties. After some time and after figuring out how to understand the man it became really enjoyable. 

Those nights that they would tell their stories for you to organize it down in a report for your superiors were as fun as they could be, given the circumstances.

Nix wouldn’t even bother to try to write his reports once he discovered how fast you could type and how concise you would turn Dick’s endless essays into comprehensive, yet detailed reports, soon enough you were helping both of your COs, your friends.

“(Y/N) I believe you have this weird super power, are you sure you are human?” Nix said after half a bottle of Vat-69, raising his eyebrows as if he was looking at you with this invisible magnifying glass. 

Dick only shook his head in disbelief. Sometimes you thought that they looked like one of those old married couples, knowing each other's quirks and peeves and yet somehow, finding it all amusing. You wondered if you could find someone like this in this God forsaken world you were living. 

One day you found it, but thinking back it wasn't easy at first and as it took some time to even lower your guard on your own brain, and allow yourself to think about it, about HIM. 

Ronald Speirs had quite a reputation, everybody knew the rumors, every man saw the things he so recklessly did on the field. His men were as afraid as the enemy, so it took you by surprise when after Foy he also started to hang out with you, Dick and Nix. The first time there was silence on the table after he arrived, you didn’t even had the chance to introduce yourself politely as Dick started out his endless questions about how the Easy men were doing, and then Nix introduced some drinks, yet you two never exchanged one word to each other before that day.

After a while his presence started to make you feel a little bit comfortable, especially after Dick assured you that he was a good man, a good leader and being a big brother figure, he wouldn’t let Speirs offer you a cigarette. Since then you could catch a glimpse at how his eyes shone even in the dark, how he looked tired after an operation. He wasn’t scary anymore, he was just another officer that from time to time would hang out with your friends.

After some time you started to get used to his presence around chasing Dick and Nix up and down, something you did yourself as they were like big brothers to you, protecting, giving their piece of advice and taking care of you. Soon enough you started to feel more comfortable around Speirs too, once you even called him Ronald after a couple of drinks.

Then one afternoon it took you by surprise when he knocked at your office, looking tired as hell with a pile of files on one hand, a pair of boots in the other one and a half burnt cigarette hanging on his lips.

“Sorry to disturb you (Y/L/N), but Nixon said you could help me out with this paperwork? I’ll be in real trouble if I don’t turn them in this evening. Also, he said you could use this one” Speirs told you while putting a tiny pair of combat boots on your desk and taking of his cap, not even giving you time to reply, not even looking at you.

“What in the name of god are you thinking? What the hell is Lewis thinking? You guys think I don’t have anything better to do, I have enough work to do, just look at this endless pile of work, so no, thank you, good luck” you said throwing your arms in exasperation, complaining and pointing out the huge paper files on your desk.

He stared at you in horror as if you were one of those german panzers, he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words but he couldn’t. You felt a twist in your stomach, looking at him you could see he was embarrassed, you never saw him so vulnerable and tired, this man could use some proper sleep. As he was turning on his heels to leave while muttering sorry a thousand times, guilt took the best of you.

“Wait” you said, closing your eyes knowing right after the word left your mouth how stupid it would be, after all you could use some sleep too, you deserved it. He slowly turned to face you.

“I’ll do it, but you better help me out and you are not allowed to smoke while we do that, I hate the smell”

You could swear you saw an amused smile on his face when he threw his last pack of Luckys on your desk. Soon enough you prepared your typewriter checking if you had enough ribbon and paper for your work, finally you sat down and stared at the man in front of you, it took him a few seconds to realize you were ready to start. 

At some point he took his jacket off and slowly put it on the chair he was sitting on, took of his tie and rolled up his sleeves, you tried not to stare at the man in front of you. If he caught you looking up and down he never said a word. It was not the first time you stared at this much feared man, truth be told you caught yourself staring at him more than once. Nix being the observant little bitch he was had this creepy little smile when he caught you one night looking at the Easy captain. You muttered something like “I’m gonna kill you” and prayed to god that he could send the biggest crate of whisky he could find so Lewis would get so drunk he would forget it.

You cleaned your throat, took a deep breath and asked for a small pause to take a glass of water. The man nodded and took a few steps to the little window and watched the landscape outside until you said you were finally ready again. “Back to work” you said to yourself.

….. 

When you two finished the sun was no longer up, just in time for him to turn on the report. While working on he would tap his fingers on your desk and look nervously at the watch on his wrist, but he never complained or tried to hurry you up. He quickly looked at the papers you cautiously handed him and shook his head, approving the final result.

“So that’s it?” he asked you, his voice soft and quiet.

“Yes that’s it, just write your name over here and we’re done” you said pointing at the blank space you left over his name at the end of the paper. 

He asked if you could borrow a pen for him to use and said a few “thanks” while signing the paper before leaving your office and storming out in the direction of the HQ, he never returned your pen but you didn’t even mind.

Then after composing yourself by stretching your back and taking a sip of your already cold coffee you decided to head down to the closest pub you could find, but firstly you changed your boots. Nix was right as you could use some new ones, but since you were so small compared to the rest of the guys it was nearly impossible to find some fitting boots, yet Speirs somehow got his hand in a pair just of the right size.

When you finally arrived at the bar your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of the room, you then scanned the tables looking for Nix and Dick. When you recognized the friendly faces you started to move towards them, but then you felt a tap on your shoulders and turned to see who it was. 

“Hey excuse me Y/L/N, Captain Speirs asked me to hand you this” It was Lieutenant Lipton holding an envelope in his hand, like it was a classified piece of information that could change the war. This man took his duties very seriously, you thought to yourself as you took the envelope and put it in your pocket.

“Thank you Lieutenant” you said smiling at the officer in front of you, who smiled back and took his leave joining his men at the other table. 

You then walked to the barman and asked for a beer, when you were reaching into your pocket to find some money to pay the man he shook his head and his hands as if trying to say no, he paused a few seconds trying to remember the words in your language and explained the best way he could that someone had taken care of it, offered you some food, the most glorious, golden fried potatoes you’ve ever saw in your life.

As you walked down to the table holding your plate the Easy men stared at you as if you were a goddess walking on water or something, then started to shout at the barman asking for the same food. Dick and Nix exchanged a funny look between each other and Nix tried to take some of your fries before you slapped his hand. 

When you tried the first one you closed your eyes, it hit you like a full speed train crashing into a wall, so many emotions one after another, after months of terrible stinky food there was this little piece of heaven. You took a big gulp of the beer in front of you, and then someone put another pint in front of you, and then another one, and another one. You could swear it was the best feeling in quite some time, the men shouting and laughing all around you telling tales and jokes about Toccoa Camp, Sobel or Dike or some officer they hated, Nixon pestering Dick about something, all the stuff, all at once you almost forgot the place you were, what you were fighting for. 

Forgot….. 

Then you remembered the note that Speirs left you and you suddenly felt a rush that almost made you fall off your chair. You don’t know if it was the fourth (or fifth?) beer you had but you felt your hands trembling as you opened the envelope. Inside there was this carefully folded paper, you stared at it for some time before gathering the courage to open it, just to find this beautiful handwriting, you didn’t expect to come from the toughest son of a bitch in the entire army. 

“Dearest (Y/N),

Thank you so much for your help today. I will never forget it and I will find a way to repay you somehow. One night you said that as a kid you used to eat french fries when you were feeling down, so I took the liberty to ask Matthijs the barman to do something special for you. 

I hope it brings you a piece of home! Enjoy whatever you want, he is going to put on my account and don’t even try to argue with him or me about it”

Sincerely yours.

Capt. Ronald Speirs.

“P.S: I have some more paperwork due to the next week, I hope you don’t mind”

You smiled to yourself as you read it again and again, every time your heart would jump when you stopped at the YOU, your name written, your brain froze right there as if it could take a picture just by staring. You didn’t mind that he would eventually bring more work, because somehow he managed to do so, he brought you home. 

You were tired, drunk and your head was spinning a little but if someone ever asked you then yes: it was worth it.

[siriusist]

Just so you know, I’ve been listening to the audiobook “Conversations with Major Dick Winters: Life Lessons from the Commander of the Band of Brothers,” and written by Dick Winters’ friend retired Colonel Cole Kingseed, and basically besides being a reflection on leadership skills, important people in Dick Winters’ life, and the follies of people attempting to profit off of people who would become important historical figures, it also has some piping hot tea about the series and the actual Lewis Nixon so hear me out.

So firstly, together with Damian Lewis’ 20th Anniversary podcast reflections last year, the book mirrors a lot of what Cole basically saw in the hiring of Damian Lewis to play Dick Winters. 

So from what Damian Lewis said about the hiring process initially in the 20th anniversary podcast, when he entered the studios when he initially came from England, there was a guy who had just left who was a Canadian actor who looked EXACTLY like Dick Winters. As in, blonde hair, built like a brick shithouse, passably could pass as American, etc. Damian said himself on the podcast that he thought that was basically it for him, because he was very much a redhead, not built like a brick shithouse, and English. 

What he politely left out of that entire story was the tea that fucking Cole Kingseed spilled which was that apparently after they had the final guys coming in to be cast to play Winters, Damian Lewis went out with Ron Livingston and partied till 4am in the morning.

What I’m loving about this is if we piece together both narratives, it’s basically Damian presuming he wasn’t going to get cast, going “fuck it” and deciding to go out with the boys anyhow, getting shitfaced drunk until 4am the next morning because he assumed he could just sleep it off and catch a flight back to England later that week, but no.

What ended up happening is Damian got back to the hotel at 4am, got a phone call three hours later at 7am, saying that Tom Hanks wanted to meet with him for 10am at the studio.

DAMIAN DRANK SIX CUPS OF COFFEE IN THE REMAINING THREE HOURS BEFORE MEETING UP WITH TOM HANKS AND GOT THE JOB.

The next tea that was spilled was about the real Lewis Nixon, and jfc I shouldn’t find this funny but I do.

So basically Dick Winters was telling Cole Kingseed that one of the reasons he didn’t commit himself to someone when he was in the war/overseas was because he noticed that men who were in love basically or had a wife and children basically fell apart quicker in battle, because they had something outside of themselves that they were worried about dying about and basically couldn’t effectively function as a soldier is supposed to.

Basically, Dick literally quoted Sherlock Holmes and was basically going on about having a “cold efficient brain” in battle.

DOESN’T THIS MOTHERFUCKER BRING UP THAT “THAT’S WHY LEWIS NIXON AND I GOT ALONG SO WELL EVEN THOUGH WE WERE TWO VASTLY DIFFERENT PEOPLE” BECAUSE BASICALLY LEW HAD A SHIT MARRIAGE AND HE SAW FIRSTHAND THAT “THERE WAS NO LOVE IN THAT HOUSE.”

NOW.

WHAT THIS PRESUMES IS THAT:

A) At some point before Lewis Nixon divorced his wife, Dick Winters was invited to his home.

B) He saw firsthand in his own polite way that Lew and his wife both fucking hated each other.

C) LEWIS NIXON HAD THE GALL TO ASK HIS TECHNICALLY COMMANDING OFFICER TO ACT AS A BUFFER FOR HIM AT AN AWKWARD DINNER HE PROBABLY HAD TO RETURN TO

D) LEWIS NIXON HATED HIS WIFE SO MUCH THAT BY INSINUATION HE DID NOT CARE IF HE LIVED OR DIED; AND 

E) COULD YOU FUCKING IMAGINE THOSE CONVERSATIONS DICK WINTERS WAS FORCED INTO.

“... This is delicious salmon, thank you for inviting me to your lovely home.”

“SEE, LEWIS- DICK DOESN’T THINK MY SALMON’S TOO DRY.”

“He’s being polite. You’re the only dried-out thing around here, sweetheart-”

“OOPS WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME-”

“IT’S ONLY 6:40-”

“Well, the Pennsylvania Dutch turn into pumpkins around seven, sooooo-”

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Drinking Up This Sweet Decadence

George Luz x Reader One shot

Warnings: SMUT!, dom/sub under and overtones, George is an immature toddler but he’s *YOUR* IMMATURE TODDLER, shit attempts at humor, reader goes a lil overboard with scratching, George gets a lil stupid post-sexy time but it’s vv cute, no discussion of safewords/boundaries so I guess the dom/sub stuff isn’t well negotiated but whatevah.

Summary: George decides to be a pouty lil jealous boy and reader is having none of it

Title comes from Good Enough by Evanescence

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Hey, Y/N- your back feeling okay?”

 Both you and Dick raise your heads from the map you’d splayed across the table in the Paratrooper- usurped pub, giving each other a quick look before you finally look at Nixon.

 “Uh….yeah, Lewis,” you narrow your eyes at the smirking man. “Why do you ask?”

 Nix shrugs and pulls a face. “Just curious if you could feel the daggers George Luz has been shooting your way.”

Furrowing your brows, you twist in your seat to look out at the sea of soldiers, frowning when you see exactly what Nixon was talking about.

George Luz was glaring at you, a deep frown of his own twisting his handsome face as you made eye contact with him. 

 A consummate goof, you weren’t unaccustomed to seeing the man pulling a face at you every now and again. More often than not, he’d do it when he felt that you were too hyper-focused on something- or if you became overly concerned and contemplative over a minute detail of whatever intel Nixon had most recently given you. He never failed to pull you from your darker thoughts, something that you had come to rely on despite your initial resistance to becoming his friend.

 But right now- this wasn’t George pulling a bit. Oh no, this was a genuine expression of upset.

Just as you opened parted your lips to mouth a question at him, he turned his glower to the beer in front of him, pointedly making conversation with Malarkey, Skip, and Alex. 

 “What’s that about?” Dick asked from your side. 

Turning back around, you shake your head and shrug. “No idea. Probably just had too much to drink and zoning out? I don’t know- the day I can explain why any of these Neanderthals do what they do is the day Hitler shaves off his mustache and admits he’s been a bit over the top with this whole affair.”

“Is it something you need to, uh, deal with?”

 You shake your head again, giving Nix a quick grin. “Nah, this is more important. Besides,” you shoot one more look over your shoulder before turning back. “Whatever it is, he’ll probably be over it come morning.”

With a nod, Nix refocuses on the map and takes a swig from his flask.

 “Okay, so the DZ is going to be in these fields, over here….”

~

Turns out, Luz wasn’t over it by morning.

 Nor was he over it that afternoon, evening, or the two next days.

 Like some playground tiff gone personal, he was ignoring you. Not just ignoring you, but full-on pretending that you didn’t exist.  If you walked into a room, he walked out. If you said his name, he lost his ability to hear and continued with whatever he was doing. When he made eye contact with you, he would immediately look away.

 You should’ve known that this was an inherent risk when you started falling in love with someone who was such a child- that they would carry their immaturity into all aspects of their life. So here you were, in a battle of wits with an oversized toddler and two weeks away from D-Day.

 And you were pissed.

 You hadn’t done anything to warrant this sort of reaction from him- just three days ago you’d been having to scold him for getting too handsy in front of your commanding officers, the both of you biting back laughter when he’d made a whole show of pouting and whimpering like a wounded puppy. Things had been good- great even. You had no idea what sparked this drastic shift in behavior.

 But that didn’t mean you weren’t determined to find out.

 You’d heard from Joe Toye that Luz was ‘moping like a goddamn kid’ in their shared cabin, having declined Joe’s offer to go out to the bar tonight. Having been on your way to go on a short run, you decided that now was as good a time as any to get to the bottom of your lover’s temper tantrum. Whether he wanted to or not.

Opening the wooden door, you rolled your eyes when he instantly shifted his gaze to the wall opposite his bed. He was leaning against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest and his legs stretched in front of him on the unmade sheets- looking for all the world a bratty teenager whose mother had sent them to their room to think about what they’d just done.

 “Fancy meeting you here, Sweetheart!”

 He blinked defiantly as he petulantly continued to stare at the wall. That was fine, you were willing to work for it a little bit.

 “Last time I saw someone pull the silent treatment, I think I was still in elementary school,” you continue as you walk over to his bed, using your hip to shove his legs to the side so you could perch on the side of the mattress beside him. “I’ve got to say- your commitment to being difficult is admirable. Three days is a long time in Luz-years, isn’t it?”

 You tilt your head to the side and give him an amused smile, batting your eyes at him as you nudge your knee against his hip. 

“What’s got you so cross, huh?” 

 George, still purposefully looking over your shoulder, said nothing. You frown at that, your amusement at his upset dwindling rapidly into genuine frustration. Being in love with George Luz- being friends with George Luz- lent itself to aggravation enough as it was, his jokes and near-constant wisecracks were destined to get on your nerves at some point. Sometimes you wondered if that truly was the point.

 But this….whatever this was had you on edge for an entirely different reason. Even with all of his other quirks and habits, this felt especially childish. the time allotted for any sort of long-term comical event had long since passed, and with the days of the company’s time in England whittling down to near single digits, you had no patience for this silent treatment.

 Which is probably why George looked so shocked when you lightly (but effectively) slapped his cheek in order to regain his attention.

 “Hey,” you said again, voice much sharper than it had been before. “What’s the matter with you? What gives?”

 George looks at you with wide eyes, one of his hands coming up to rub against his pinkening cheek dumbly. When he doesn’t respond quickly enough for your liking, you swing a leg over his hips and straddle his lap, bracing your hands on either side of the wall he’s leaning against to effectively box him in.

“George, why are you being weird with me?”

 His brown eyes shift down to look at the collar of your PT shirt, the stretched-out fabric pulling to one side and revealing the paler skin of your collarbone. He suddenly looks incredibly young, something that hits you like a fist to the chest. As he swallows, you whisper his name again- concern starting to smooth the jagged edges of your agitation.

 Clearing his throat, George looks down and to the side as you feel his free hand come to lightly rest on the bare skin of your thigh, touching the skin like he fears it will cut him somehow.

 “It’s nothing, Y/N,” he says without conviction, almost like he knows you can hear that he’s lying before he even gives it a try. “‘M not being weird—”

“George.”

 This time he actually meets your gaze, his brows furrowing at the expression of worry you know your face has pulled itself into. Despite the fact that- not ten seconds ago- he’d been giving you the cold shoulder, George moves the hand that had been rubbing at his cheek to your face so his thumb can smooth the tension between your eyes. The way he did it almost seemed unconscious, the sweetness of the action not lost on you.

 So why had he been so distressed?

 “Talk to me,” you say quietly, leaning your head into his touch. “Please.”

 You allow your eyes to drift closed as he cups your cheek, the curve of his palm bending around your cheekbone as if it was made to hold it. 

 “You’re too good for me.”

 Opening your eyes quickly, you feel yourself frown at the statement. At first you think he’s joking, but you can tell by the grim smile on his handsome face that he is being painfully sincere. You quickly take his face in your hands and look at him incredulously, hating the look of defeat on his face.

 “What in the hell are you talking about?” you have to work to keep from sounding too exasperated, a new wave of frustration beginning to crest in your chest. “What on earth makes you think that?”

 When he doesn’t reply, you shake your head and narrow your eyes. “No, Luz- you don’t get to say something like that and then not elaborate. I never thought I’d ever have to demand this but goddamnit, George, I need you to talk to me!”

 Clenching his jaw, he twists his mouth from side to side before smirking ruefully. 

 “Seeing you and Nixon just….you’re too smart for a dumbass like me. You’re pretty and sharp and too fuckin’ brainy to  waste your time with some nobody who’s probably not even gonna make it past D-Day…..a girl like you could have anybody, and I like you too goddamn much to keep you from—”

 “Shut up.”

 His eyebrows shoot up at the venom in your voice. Tears prickle at your eyes as you think about all that he’s said, all that he’s been thinking for the past two days while he ignored you and allowed this to fester in his head while you were none the wiser. It hurt, his words physically caused you pain. It broke your heart to think that he thought so little of himself and was so thoroughly unconvinced of your unwavering devotion to him. 

Did he really think that, by ignoring you long enough, that you’d just move on to a more appropriate man? Someone more ‘deserving’ or ‘worthy’ of you?

 You’re a goddamned idiot, George Luz.

 You must’ve spoken the last part aloud, because abruptly he physically startles and pouts at you like an offended child. Too lost in your anger to find any humor in his reaction, you bite the inside of your cheek and glare at him.

 “I don’t want a Lewis Nixon! My entire life, I’ve been told that I’m supposed to marry a man like him- someone who went to an overpriced school and drinks overpriced wine and has perfect posture and perfect hair and the best fake charm money could buy,” you know your voice has gone shrill, but you’re too angry to care right now.

“And yeah, maybe that type of man could buy me a nice house with nice cars and give me heaps of rich, fat babies who have pretentious names that they can’t even pronounce until they’re eight or nine- but guess what, George?” 

 You slide your hands into his hair and grab fistfuls of it so he can’t look away from you even if he tried. Tears have been dripping down your cheeks for a while now, your throat growing tighter and tighter with each word you speak but you don’t dare stop. You need him to know how you feel, you have to clear any signs of doubt from his thick, perfect head.

“He wouldn’t love me. Men like that are hollow and selfish- they only know how to want and take.  They’d rather I sat quietly and smiled and gave them heirs than ask me about what I want. He would want me to be good and proper, he’d never care about me- not like you do.”

 Sniffing, you relax your grip on his hair and slide your hands down until they rest on his chest, barking out a rueful scoff as you let your eyes take in the pain on his face. “If you don’t want me any more, that’s fine. But don’t you dare ever try to break up with me for me again. Because as far as I’m concerned, you’re the love of my life, George Luz.”

 It’s quiet, the only sound that of your occasional sniff and the creak of the bed as he sits up a bit straighter. You’re about to plead for him to say something when he suddenly surges forward to kiss you soundly on the lips, pressing his mouth onto yours so strongly you find yourself being bent backward. His hands, hot and sure, splay themselves on your back- one pressing between your shoulder blades while the other at the base of your spine anchors you in his lap so you don’t fall.

There’s a desperation in this kiss, you can feel it in the harshness of his breathing and the determined tension of his hold on you. As you pull back to catch your breath, George doesn’t let you go far.

 “Do you mean that, Y/N?” he’s asking, words hot and heavy on your lips as he keeps his forehead pressed to yours. “Please tell me you aren’t just saying that because I—”

“I mean it.”

 You capture his mouth with yours before he can ask anything further, having made the decision to show him just how serious you were being. He whimpers into your mouth as you yank at the shoulders of his shirt aggressively- too focused on baring his skin to your greedy hands to think about the scolding he’ll get if you tear the fabric at all. From the way he’s fisting the hem of your own shirt, you think he’s on a similar wavelength.

 Sex with George was unlike anything you had experienced before. Never before had you had a partner be so wonderfully jovial about such intimacies- all of your previous experiences had led you to believe that it was meant to be a serious and choreographed affair, a misconception that always left you too anxious to ever derive any true pleasure from the act. 

 But with George…. you had learned to relax enough to realize that there was no right or wrong way to do it. If anything, the fumbles and mistakes had taught you that sex could actually be fun. 

 This was the first time he’d ever shown any sort of desperation or determination during foreplay, the first time you’d gotten any sense of urgency from him. 

You couldn’t fault him, however….not when you felt it too.

 By the time you’ve stripped each other of your respective shirts, you can’t help but grind yourself into him. George, eyes wide and staring, dips his head down to watch the way you roll your lower half against his, eyes following a path up and down your sternum with each gyration like a man entranced. You feel heat flood your face at the open gaping, your hands once again gripping the strands of his hair to pull his head up and back.

 His hiss fills you with some dark, carnal sense of pride. Especially when you see the glazed look in his eyes as you smirk at him.

 “What’s wrong, Georgie?” you murmur, brushing your nose with his while his hands slide up and down your spine like they’re lost. “Have I shocked you? Are you still jealous?”

 “‘M not jealous,” he insists, his blunt fingernails digging into the skin of your hips as your nipples brush across his chest unexpectedly. “Just want you….”

You kiss him again for that, gently scratching at the shorter hairs at the base of his neck as you pull back again. “You have me right now, Sweetheart.”

 You know that he is aware that you’re teasing him- something he’d normally retaliate in kind. But right now, he’s too drunk on something headier than normal to match your energy. It’s something you can relate to, the unfamiliar burn of dominance singing your veins like wildfire.

 “Are you reassured yet? What more can I do to make it clear that you’re mine?”

Blinking slowly, George gives his head a gentle shake. “N-Nothing….please-”

 Slipping one hand from his hair, you trace your fingertips over his lips and marvel at how soft and swollen they’ve become.

 “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

 With high color in his cheeks, George doesn’t even attempt to hide the desperation in his voice as he groans under your touch. “‘M sorry….I’m sorry, Sugar. Just, just don’t stop. Please.”

Well, who are you to deny a request like that?

 When you kiss him this time, you do it more carefully and with less anger, gently allowing the kiss to deepen as one of his strong arms locks around your waist and the other hand trails up your stomach to rest between your breasts. You trail your fingers everywhere you can, up his arms and down his chest and around his back where you can feel each breath he takes beneath your palms.

As your thighs begin to shake, you tilt your head so your lips separate from his with a soft sound.

 “I need you inside of me,” you whisper, reaching down to where he’s grown hard for you and cupping him through his pants. “Can I have you inside me, George?”

“Yeah,” he nods, his words more an exhale than anything else. “Yessss….”

 Clumsily, you and he work to pull his trousers and briefs down to his upper thighs, with him taking the initiative to push them down further as you carefully use his precum to slick his cock while you stroke him. He nips at your breasts as you do so, resting his forehead on your breastbone and mouthing at whatever skin he can. Burying your face in his hair, you sigh contentedly as he slides his hand down the back of your PT shorts to brush at the wet petals of your sex with a deep groan.

 “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, the air from his words chilling the spit-slicked marks he’d been sucking on the tops of your breasts and sending goosebumps shaking down your body. “Fuck, Baby-”

 He cuts himself off with another deep groan when you reach behind yourself to pull his hand away so you can divest yourself of your remaining clothes. You can’t help but smile at the sound.

 “Why the long face, Sweetheart? Not ten minutes ago, you were ready to have me leave you for Lewis Nixon—”

“I’m sorry,” he all but blurts out, eyes trained on your naked body as you finally kick your legs free of the cotton shorts and underwear before crawling back into his lap. “I’m sorry, Y/N….”

 His apologetic tone only fuels the dark burn that’s taken up residence in your lower belly, and you decide that you want to hear more of it.

 “Say it again,” you demand, cupping your hand around the back of his neck while the other resumes its rhythm between his legs.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his eyes falling shut as you tighten your grip on him. His cock is hard and hot in your hand, and when you pause to tease the head of it with your thumb you can feel his racing pulse against your palm.

 “Tell me what you’re sorry for,” you nearly snarl, inhaling the gasp that escapes his lips as you nestle him in between your lower lips. “Tell me, and I might even let you cum inside of me.”

 His hands have come to grip your ass, holding onto the soft flesh tightly as you rub yourself on his cock in a lewd echo of what you’d been doing earlier. The muscles in your thighs have begun to ache with fatigue, but you are too stubborn to stop torturing him.

 “I’m sorry I ignored you!” George’s voice has taken on a keening quality- something you find deliriously attractive. “‘M sorry I- shit!- that I didn’t talk ‘bout this, that I t-tried to tell you what to do! I...I- goddamn it, just fuckin’ do something, please!”

 You cut off his pleas with a kiss, quickly guiding him inside of you. You both break the kiss when he bottoms out- a curse being punched out of him while you release a whimper into the air above your heads. All of this had gotten you more aroused than you had initially realized, your body stilling as you struggle to control your breathing after the tip of his cock hits a spot inside of you that threatens to send you over the precipice prematurely.

 “You okay, Sugar?” George asks, the waiver in his voice telling you that this might be a quicker romp than either of you had been hoping for. “You alright?”

You nod, your walls tightening around him as you lower your head to press your forehead to his.

“Yeah, yeah….just gimme a sec.”

 Your stomach is trembling with arousal, and you know that your face is scrunched up unattractively as you force yourself to breathe through it.

 “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you whisper tensely.

“I know you’re workin’ through something right now,” his voice is just breathy as yours, his hands nearly shaking as they clutch your hips. “But if you don’t move soon, I think I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, the sound turning into a harmonizing moan with his from the way it moves your body. With a nod, you slot your nose with his.

“Sure, sure. I’ll get- oh!- righ’ on that.”

 As you roll your hips, your hands claw at whatever parts of him you can find, your jaw-dropping open with a gasp as the powerful sensation of fullness threatens to rob you of air.

 “Feels good….fuck, you feel good!”

 You’re only dimly aware of his praise, too lost in chasing the blissful heat threatening to burn you alive. You know that he’s talking to you still, that he’s being unbearably sweet and endearing and sincere but you can barely hear him over the screams from your mind that are telling you to move, move, move. 

His lips are at your neck, your head lolling back as you rut against him like some depraved and wanton degenerate from a crappy erotic novel but it feels too good for you to be embarrassed.

 “I’m gonna cum,” you choke out, his pubic bone hitting your clit in just the right way. “George—!”

 A white-hot bolt of lightning hits you before you can even ask him how close he is, your body shaking almost violently as you refuse to stop riding him. It’s only when you hear him curse that you know he’s tumbled over the cliff right after you, his strong arms locking around you and holding you to him while you hunch out the remainder of your orgasm atop him.

 By the time you sag against him, your throat is dry from your heavy breathing and your mind is basically gone- the sweat on your skin growing cold in the already chilly air of Alberborne. As George clumsily slides down the bed enough to lay flat on his back, you can do nothing more than rest heavily atop of him like the world’s least effective blanket.

 His pulse is as fast as a hummingbird's wings as it beats beneath your lips, your tongue darting out to lick at the sweat from his skin as you nuzzle your face into the curve of your neck. As feeling slowly returns to your limbs, you carefully feel around for the bunched-up blankets at the foot of the bed and kick them up your legs until you can grasp them in your hands. As you successfully cover the both of you up to your hips, George blindly fumbles around with his hand until he finds your neck and starts to brush up and away the hair that’s gotten sweat-stuck there.

 Neither of you speak, only a few grunts and groans exchanged as he carefully reaches between your bodies to help maneuver his softening cock from between your legs. You feel sated, so deeply sated that it takes you a few moments to remember that you hadn’t been exactly gentle with him while seeking your release.

 With a little tremor in your bones, you brace one hand on his chest and push yourself up so you can look down at him, feeling a mix of shyness and guilt at the sight of the red lines your nails had drawn across his torso. With careful fingers, you touch one of the raised pink marks you’d left along his collarbone and follow it up his neck before you hesitantly make eye contact with George, ready for him to hate you for being so aggressive and dominating.

 Instead, you find the dumbest grin stretching across his face- his eyes closed softly as he catches his breath. He must have felt you looking at him, because he licks his lips and lets out a breathy chuckle.

 “Ho-ly shit,” his eyes are soft and somewhat unfocused still when they open. “I think I’m in love.”

You frown slightly at that, his reaction not at all what you’d been mentally preparing for. Gaping stupidly for a moment, you sigh loudly and tilt your head to the side. “But I just- even after I….why?!”

 Upon hearing the distress in your voice, he shakes his head quickly and blinks through his haze enough to meet your gaze more intentionally. His smile unwavering, he raises his eyebrows with another laugh.

 “I don’t think I’ve cum that hard in my entire life, that’s why! Jesus, Sugar- I’m fuckin’ dizzy even now….”

Still confused and unsure, you clear your throat and look at him incredulously. “Really? You….liked it? Are you sure—?”

“Liked it?!” George barks, shooting an equally incredulous look your way. “Y/N, i’m not sure if you were here the whole time, but I fucking blacked out, I liked it so much!”

You feel a smile curling on your lips, his words confusing you but in no way were they insincere. “Even after I, you know, scratched the hell out of you?”

 He nods enthusiastically, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your chest as you run your hands through his hair and curl down so your face is closer to his.

 “And when I slapped you? Made you say ‘sorry’—?”

“Are you kidding me- that was my favorite part!”

 Before you can ask anything else, George reaches up to bring your face down to his so he can kiss you, grinning at the shocked stillness of your lips as you wrap your head around what he’s insisting. 

 He liked it. He doesn’t hate me for it.

 And, now that you felt that you could be honest to yourself, you’d like it, too. A lot.

 You pull back before he can deepen the kiss, taking his face in your hands and furrowing your brows.

 “I mean what I said, George Luz,” you say sternly, a sharp contrast to the gentle touches you’re swiping across his cheeks and jaw. “I want you. I love you. Don’t do that to me again.”

He scoffs at that. “How can I not? Now that I know that this is what you do when you’re angry, I may never talk to you again!”

 You shake your head. “Unbelievable. Has it not occurred to you that you could just ask nicely? I’m sure I can figure out something to be mad at you for….”

“Careful, Baby,” he warns teasingly, bringing a finger up to tap at your nose with faux seriousness. “Keep this up, and I’m gonna have to marry you before long.”

 Catching his wrist before he can touch your nose again, you smirk and roll your eyes. As you pin his wrist beside his head, you lower your face so your lips are just a hair’s breadth above his.

 “Oh, Sweetheart- don’t tempt me with a good time.”

You squeal as he quickly rolls you beneath him, the both of you erupting in laughter as he peppers kisses all across your face and neck.

 “Oh well,” George sighs as he nibbles at the soft underside of your jaw. “Never say I didn’t warn you.”

~ ~ ~

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

[captaintrissy]

How Easy Company would react to finding out you’re pregnant

Dick Winters: Dick would be so happy, and already making plans for the baby, like which colour to paint the nursery. He’d kiss your nose, then your forehead and lastly your lips and ending it all by putting his arms around you and holding you so close. He’d rest his chin on top of your head and completely envelope you. After a while he’d start discussing his plans with you, even going as far as to ask if you want to go and pick up paint after dinner.

Lewis Nixon: Lew would probably be the most hesitant of the guys at the prospect of a baby. He had a wife and child and that went down the drain so he’d be scared that the same thing would happen again. Due to this he wouldn’t have the best reaction at first, opting to go out for a drink and later showing up drunk at Dick’s house. The morning after Dick would talk some sense into him and Lew would come home, very apologetic and explaining why he left and promising to never do it again.

Ron Speirs: Ron would be surprised, to put it mildly. Sure, he knew that something like this might happen but he’s never seen himself as a father. He already loves the baby, and would do anything for them, but he’s not exactly a nurturing person. He wants to be a good father so bad, but he doesn’t know if he will be. You see the worry on his face and coax him into telling you his fears, which you readily calm. Once reassured he’ll kiss you passionately and cuddle with you in bed for hours, gently resting his hands on your stomach.

Carwood Lipton: Lip would look stunned for a moment, before breaking into a huge grin. He’d caress your face oh so gently and said that he’d hug you and spin you around if he wasn’t worried it could hurt the baby. You’d roll your eyes at him and tell him that you can’t imagine any of that hurting the baby. Lip would then hug you, but very carefully, and he’d still be too scared to spin you around.

Chuck Grant: Chuck would tentatively ask you if you were sure, not wanting to getting his hopes up in case it was just a false alarm. When you answered that you were sure he would take your hands in his and use them to, gently mind you, pull you to him. Once you were closer to him he would wrap his arms around your waist, look lovingly into your eyes and keep repeating things like ”We’re going to be parents.”, ”We’re having a baby” and ”I hope the baby looks like you”.

Floyd Talbert: It would take Floyd a second to register what you had said, but then he’d sweep you up into his arms and lift you from the ground, just looking at you with pure adoration in his eyes. He’d then give you a sweet kiss, which would eventually turn pretty heated. Floyd would carry you, careful not to let you fall, into the bedroom where you’d proceed to celebrate.

Eugene Roe: Gene would give you the softest smile possible, slowly walk toward you while looking into your eyes. When he’d reach you he’d gently put his hands on your cheeks and, still looking into your eyes, he’d tell you that he loved you. Gene would then pull you into a soft kiss before draping one of his arms over your shoulders and using the other to gently touch your stomach, all the while whispering french into your hair.

Don Malarkey: When you told him you could see something change in Don. The war had done its best to wear away at who he is and at his view of the world, but upon hearing the news he got a part of that back, he became hopeful of the future. He’d give you the most tender, gentle kiss he’s ever given you and shyly asks if he can feel your stomach, to which you answer that he doesn’t have to ask since it’s his baby too. He’d touch your stomach so gently and get a big smile on his face.

Bull Randleman: Bull is an attentive guy so he’d probably already have some suspicion that you were pregnant given the symptoms he’s noticed but he wouldn’t say anything since he wouldn’t wanna jump to conclusions. Nonetheless, when you told him his face would soften and he’d look so lovingly at you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head.

George Luz: George is a big jokester and prankster so when you first told him you were pregnant, he’d think you were messing with him, like he’s done with you so many times. Despite your insistence that you really were pregnant he wouldn’t believe you until you showed him the pregnancy test. The biggest smile would form on his lips and he’d scoop you up into his arms and spin you in a circle and in response you’d let out a gleeful screech.

Joe Toye: Joe wouldn’t be quite sure what to feel, on one hand he’d love to have kids with you, but on the other he knows he can’t help out as much as he wants. You already do so much around the house and he worries that if you add pregnancy and a baby to that that it will be too much for you. However when you anxiously asks him if he’s upset about it Joe’ll instantly assure you that he’s not upset and that he wants to have a baby with you, he’s just worried about the workload. You then reassure him that you’ll figure it out and from then on he’s nothing but happy.

Bill Guarnere: You’d probably have Bill sit down before you tell him, and when you tell him he gets so excited that he forgets that he misses half a leg and would jump out of his chair and try to put his amputated leg forward in a step, resulting in him falling flat on his face. You’d have to stifle laughter while helping him up. Once up Bill would give you a deep kiss that lasted until you ran out of breath. When you’d separated for air Bill would instantly begin talking loudly and animatedly about plans for the baby, not even stopping for air.

Joe Liebgott: Joe would probably be the most shocked of the guys, his mouth would open into a big o and his wide eyes would travel between your face and your stomach a few times before asking if you’re sure. You’d huff in annoyance and answer that yes, you were sure. He’d then cup your face in his hands and give you a big kiss. After you broke apart he would very excitedly start talking about names, nursery decor, who’d the baby would look more like etc.

Shifty Powers: This sweetheart would be so happy. The first thing he’d do is give you a million dollar smile and then envelope you in his arms and hug you tightly for a few seconds before he’d hurriedly pull away, frantically asking if he hurt the baby. You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at that but you’d make sure to reassure him that hugging won’t hurt the baby, to which he’d respond by once again enveloping you in his arms.

[ourmiraclealigner]

One and Only

Lewis Nixon x Reader 

gif not mine! credit to owner.

request: anon

taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @mavysnavy @ivy-miranda-2390 @ya-yeeteth @rayofshanshine @primusk @punkgeekchic @inglourious-imagines @wexhappyxfew @vintagelavenderskies @easy-company-tradition @meteora-fc @teenmagazines @order-of-river-phoenix @contrabandhothead​ 

-----------------------

Lewis Nixon was never one to get jealous- he never had a reason to be. He was a tall ivy- league man with dark hair and dark eyes, never having any trouble with women. He had joined Easy with a wife and child and was perfectly content with the life he had at home. He had tried to distance himself from the men in the beginning, only hearing about them when he listened to Dick. But as time went on, he found himself spending more and more time, getting to know each one more personally. 

Yet, there was one that he was interested in the most- (Y/N). At first, he kept it professional, wanting to get to know her as much as possible before doing anything he would regret. As they continued to grow closer, he had become bolder, starting to put his arm around her shoulders, brush pieces of her hair behind her ear, and shower her in compliments. And before he knew it, Lewis Nixon was in love. 

Their relationship progressed fast, wanting to make up for the lost time. There were very seldom moments they would be away from each other, and it seemed all of the destruction and heartbreak had pulled them closer together. 

Now, as there was an end of the war in sight, Lew found himself stressed about their relationship. He worried that once all of this ended, they'd just go back to the states and act as if nothing had happened. He knew it was likely; he was a difficult person to be with and was more trouble than it was worth. He won't blame her if that's what she chose to do. 

He stared across the river to the German side, Dick next to him as they spoke in hushed voices about the coming patrol. This was commonplace for them- discussing military strategy, command, and members of Easy. He found it hard to focus, wanting to do nothing more than slip back into his mind, but he knew now wasn't the time. 

"Speirs pick the men for the patrol tonight?" Lew asked, looking up at his redheaded friend. 

"I think so.." Dick trailed off, mind somewhere else, as he tried to play the patrol out in his mind. He didn't want any casualties this close to the inevitable German surrender. 

Eyebrows furrowed, Lew turned when he heard a familiar laugh, eyes immediately landing on the two. He couldn't help the anger that coursed through his veins as he watched (Y/N) and Speirs talking, casually strolling through the grey streets of Hagenaou, acting as if the world wasn't at war around them. 

It wasn't as if Lewis didn't want her to have friends. He did- he knew she needed a support system as they had been through a lot these past few months. He couldn't always be there, and if he wasn't, he wanted her to have someone. But there was just something about how Ron looked at her and the way she looked up at him that rubbed him the wrong way. 

"You think those are good?" Dick asked as soon as he finished rattling off the names of the men who were chosen to go, turning when he received no response from his friend. He followed the path of Lewis's eyes, understanding his silence when he got a grasp of the scene. "Speirs!" He called, watching Ron's head turn up at the voice. "Get over here."

Ron jogged over (Y/N) at his heels, a light smile painted on her lips when she caught sight of Lewis. She stood next to him, smiling fading when he didn't look or greet her. "Sir." She spoke softly to get his attention, trying to keep the act that he was nothing more to her than a superior officer. Maybe in his coldness towards her, he was attempting the same thing. But then again, he had never acted like this, and that worried her. 

"You can go." Lewis finally spoke, eyes casting down to meet hers. His words had a bit of frustration, his hands forming tight fists in the pockets of his warm jacket. If she wanted Ron, he wanted nothing to do with her. 

With a quick nod, she turned to Dick and Ron, mumbling, "I'll be back at CP." Before heading back the way, she had come. She was immediately lost in her thoughts, trying to explain away Lew's behavior. She went through all of the conversations they had had recently, wondering if it was something she had said. When she couldn't remember any instance where she could have offended him, she moved on to things she had done and still couldn't find anything. 

With a sigh, she flopped onto the couch, flashing a quick, polite smile to Lip before thinking again. She hadn't even realized she had made it back to CP. Fingers tapping against the soft fabric of the arm of the couch as she let her head fall back, eyes following the patterns of the ceiling. What had she done? 

Minutes felt like hours as she continued her endless barrage of thoughts, only snapping when she heard the door open. Three sets of heavy footsteps entered, Lip standing to greet the men as they continued their earlier conversation about the patrol. (Y/N) stood when she saw Lew behind Dick, her heat starting to beat a little faster as she knew the only way to solve this would be to confront him. 

She took a deep breath before speaking. "Sir." She kept her voice steady, beads of sweat collecting on her palms. "May I speak to you in private?" She looked directly at Lew, so there was no confusion as to who she was speaking to.

"Yeah." Dick chimed in, looking between the couple. "You two go along; I need to find Sink anyway." And with that, he was gone, leaving Lew with no other choice than to follow (Y/N) outside. 

They both shivered as they stepped outside, the cold air floating under their scarves and hitting their bare skin. They walked for a few minutes in silence, Lew trailing slightly behind (Y/N) until they found a little corner to stand in for privacy. He stood, back against the cool bricks of a building, dark eyes steady on her. 

"Did I do something?" She asked, not wasting any time in getting to the conversation. "Because if I did.. I'm sorry, and I want to fix it. I don't want you to be upset with me." She tried to catch his eyes again when he started to look away. 

"If you-" Lew cleared his throat, not wanting her to hear the shakiness in his voice. "If you don't want to be with me if this is just something to get you through the war, tell me right now." 

"What?" She asked, features creased with concern, "No. I don't want that. Why would you even think such a thing?" 

He let out a breath, creating a white cloud over them as they stood in silence. "I saw the way you were with Speirs today." He finally spoke, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. "And I know you don't look at me like that. I don't want to be your second choice when we get back to the states." 

"You think you're my second choice?" She asked, starting to understand why he was so upset. "It doesn't matter what part of the world I live in-, you'll always be my first choice. Speirs is nothing more than a friend, I promise. I don't want you to have to worry about me doing something like that to you because I won't. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable today; it wasn't my intention." She spoke with so much conviction; he almost forgave her on the spot. 

"I know what you want; you don't want me."

"Lewis." She spoke calmly, keeping her eyes on him as she wanted him to believe her. "I'm with you because I love you, not Speirs. If I wanted to be with him, I would. But I want you." 

He was quiet, taking a few moments to think about her words before nodding. He felt tears prick his eyes, realizing she truly loved him for who he was- even the bad. It had been a long time since he had felt that way, and he knew he was projecting his insecurities on her. She loved him as he loved her, and there was no reason to push her away.

"You mean that?" He asked, a large hand reaching out to grab hers. His skin tingled as theirs touched, his thumb stroking over her knuckles. He pulled his hand away for a brief second to pull her close and press a kiss to her lips before pulling her into a tight hug. 

"With my whole heart."

With a teary chuckle, he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck; arms wrapped tightly around her as he tried to protect her from the cold. "You don't know how much I love you." He spoke into her scarf, words muffled by the soft fabric. "I've never loved anything more than you."

[inglourious-imagines]

Oh Captain, My Captain (Ronald Speirs)

Requested by: @sydney-m

Summary: You and Speirs fooled around a bit but it was just a one-time thing. However, he can't fight his feelings for much longer.

Author's Note: I don't know if this is what you wanted but this idea suddenly strucked me and I had to write it haha. Hope you like it!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans  @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @stressedinadress @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday

.

.

.

"Find what you love and let it kill you." - Bukowski

"The war's over."

Those three words echoed in her head like a prayer and she still quite couldn't catch the real grasp of it. After such long years of fighting and dying it almost seemed surreal for it to end now. Just like that.

Y/N looked at her trembling hands, not really sure about what's wrong with her. She should be happy, so incredibly happy, that it's all finally over. No more fighting, no more killing, no more dying.

Y/N glanced at the officer sitting next to Lewis Nixon as she tried so much not to stare at his tired face. In that exact moment, in that early summer sun, Ronald Speirs looked like the most innocent person in the entire world that she almost forgot what weight he had to carry on his shoulders.

All of them had to.

Harry Welsh smoking a cigarette leaned closer to her, "You really should talk with him. The war's over now. He deserves to know."

Y/N forced herself to look away from the worn out soldier. "I don't know, Harry... I'm- I'm scared." she whispered turning to the paratrooper fully.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, my dear." Welsh tried to reassure her but both of them knew it's just words. Speirs was an unpredictable person and nobody ever knew what possibly can go on in his mind. 

"But even if you are, you've got to tell him. What would you do if he didn't know? Disappear? Run away?" Harry took a drag from his cigarette and Y/N knew he's telling the purest truth. She had to do it even though every single part of her said no.

•••

Y/N's eyes wandered to the bottle of whiskey for the hundredth time in five minutes and she had to hold her hand down so she wouldn't grab it. It was harder, way harder than it should, with all the soldiers around her getting drunk just like the other night.

"How come you don't have a drink, darling?" Speirs crashed on the chair next to her, his cheeks flushed and a bright smile on his face. She'd never - during the entire war - seen him so happy just like in that moment.

"I haven't been feeling well, that's all." Y/N tried to explain, partly to avoid the conversation about alcohol but the more she thought about what she said, the more she realised she actually didn't lie. Not at all.

"What's the matter? You probably should go to bed, Y/N. I can get you some extra blankets. And hot tea. Or coffee, whatever you like." Ron mumbled quickly as some emotion wave through his body. He tried to ignore it but it came back when he looked at the young female soldier next to him.

"I'm okay, it's nothing serious." Y/N laughed patting his shoulder gently. Ron didn't have the slightest idea how he missed her touch. This was beyond his own mind and understanding. After the slight touch they shared, he found himself falling in, craving for her hands, body and soul.

"Do you think we can talk?" the tone of her voice suddenly changed and he was met with a pair of concerned deep Y/E/C eyes.

He nodded faintly, not sure what could go wrong so quickly but he took her cold hand anyway and led her into an empty room.

Y/N walked around the room looking everywhere but at him and Speirs knew right away she's hiding something from him.

"What is it? You're kinda scaring me to be honest." he admitted as he finished his drink putting the glass away.

"No! I swear I'm okay. It's just-... I have to tell you something." 

"Are you sure you're fine? You look a bit pale, the bed might really help." Ron insisted as his posture was evidently concerned, worried and maybe even scared. He had no idea what could be so important that Y/N felt the need to be alone for talking.

The truth was, even he tried his hardest to fight it, Ronald Speirs couldn't stop his mind, soul and heart from wanting her war-stained lips, her tender touch, her quiet whisper, her joinful laugh, her beautiful scarred body. He simply craved every single part of Y/N, the desperate need to have her near him was complicating his life but he was slowly giving in. Y/N was his new hope.

"I truly feel okay, don't worry." Y/N sounded a bit frustrated with the soldier as she couldn't get to the point.

"I'm gonna get you some water at least, right? Just wait a second." Speirs stated as a matter of fact walking towards the door.

And at the moment, when his hand touched the door knob, Y/N knew that if he left the room, she'd never be able to tell him.

"I'm pregnant, Ron!" 

Everything stopped. His arm fell to his body as he immediately freezed on the spot. Speirs expected everything, every single thing in the world, but not this. He slowly turned on his heel looking directly into her scared eyes. Fatigue and worry was basically radiating off of her.

"Are you sure it's mine?" Ronald whispered because he didn't dare to speak out loud. A weird atmosphere was floating in the air as well as plenty of unanswered questions. "Alright, that's a stupid question." he added as he saw the ironic look she sent him.

The room was flooded with silence for a moment - neither of them didn't know what to say. Their emotions were going through a storm, it was difficult to look at the other one without the unconditional love they'd been hiding inside of them since the night in Heagenau.

"I better buy that family house in the States I've wanted to buy for a long time then." Ronald Speirs finally spoke up with an innocent pure smile set on his face. 

A single tear rolled down her cheek. Ron took a few steps toward her. "It has a beautiful garden with lots of flowers of so many kinds. There's even a little house for the dog you've always said you wanted. The view from there is spectacular - woods and hills and mountains."

At this very point, Y/N was crying like a little baby as she hugged the soldier so tight like she never wanted to let him go.

"We made a human." Ron whispered pressing a gentle kiss on her lips that expressed way more than words ever could.

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

I would love an imagine with lewis nixon with a little angst that turns into fluff, please!

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 ; 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

pairing: lewis nixon x fem!reader plot: relationships sometimes get rough, even in the middle of te war –but lewis is here to doubt that. word count: 2,367

(dm or request for me to my taglist if you want to  ʚ♡⃛ɞ(•ᴗ•❁))

dating lewis nixon was not definitely easy. yeah, he was nearly alcoholic, he had a daring persona, and the meaning of the “healthy connection with parents” was unknown for him. although, he was a good guy with a clear brain and the best humour you had ever known, and not to mention, he was protective as hell towards you. lewis’ fear, that you were gonna find a much better guy than him before he got to marry you was really, really strong: you were one of the most honoured women -hell, even between men- at the army. your strategies always worked, and you even had the connection with the secret service, planning and writing the commands, even when nobody was capable of thinking about victory or success in the middle of chaos. you had names like speirs, who was a living legend just like you -you were the “battle widow”, even if you never had a spouse, not even at home, or a lover.

until now.

in the first months of your relationship, each of you were at toccoa, every moment with each other was filled with love and soft smiles, cheeky comments on this and that, warm sheets around you in the morning or after a very lovely night -because by each other's side, you could do anything. but before they went to aldbourne, fort benning or camp mackall, you needed to move to washington, back to the centre of everything -they needed you. meanwhile, lewis got more somber and serious, just the war, he’s just worried a little bit, you thought. you were too nervous as hell, if he gets shot or injured, if something permanent happens… you didn't want to think about it, either. his best friend, winters was a good man too -sometimes even better than lewis-, and the night before you got up to the train, you asked him to look over lewis -of course he don’t gotta be able to carry him or something, just assure that he don’t do something dumb and don’t hurt himself or anybody else. your heart stung when he got out from the view, but grabbing the necklace at your chest -he gave it to you on the date you kissed-, you somehow knew that everything was gonna be alright.

but now, little things scared you -or these were just little things to him, but to you, they were very big. at first, lewis’ letters got shorter and shorter, in turn they were still out of danger, and while you wrote at least one page, his writing was barely a half or one fourth of a paper long. and the second, you got news that he’s drinking more and more. okay, maybe these things were bigger than they would have been, but nah, you were just in love, no? probably, he was just too busy, or something was wrong with the transporting of the letters, or… you tried to collect reasons desperately, legitimating that you and him are alright. you even expected to write to winters, to spy about lewis, but you never wanted to involve him in something he was not supposed to be involved in -your problem was just yours and your boyfriend’s. the moment when you got back to your tiny apartment after two long day -you had to sleep in there because of the nonstop readiness-, you dared to dial the number of the centre of aldbourne’s military station. maybe he’s in the near, or some of his friends and you can talk with him.

-please, just pick up -you muttered, a little blunt sound pricked in the line of the phone. after a few seconds, you heard a little shuffling. -camp aldbourne’s military station centre, what can i help? -you sighed when you heard winters, sitting down on the couch to speak a little bit calmer. -hi, i’m (y/n), and… can you please toss me to lewis? is he near of you? -you asked warily, hoping that the answer was gonna be a “yes, of course”. -sorry, but he’s with lipton and harry welsh. perhaps if i call you back later, can you keep it a little bit? -yeah, of course, but winters -you jabbered, and continued before he could say anything. -is lewis… okay?

you heard winters exhaling, and you felt that he’s thinking. but what about? that lewis’ worse? how worse?

-lew’s fine, he’s just… his things just got together, but he handles it. is everything okay, or… -no, just give him, please. thanks -you shaked off, feeling a little guilty about your tone, but all you wanted to hear was your boyfriend. a couple of moments later you got what you wanted -but not how you wanted.

-hey, (y/n), what’s up? -you squinted on the question. what’s up? he always asked “how are you” or “are you okay, baby”, but not shitty “what’s up”. -hi, lewis. is everything alright, love? i am… a little worried about you -you began, circling your finger on the fabric of the sofa. -you don’t need to, ‘kay? everything's fine, just mind your own business or i don’t know.

you almost gulped at this, hoping he doesn't hear the bitter mumble. but now, you knew that with gentleness, you’re not gonna get to know anything.

-okay, fine. but then why did you not answer my letters? or calls? -i wrote to you, everytime. -but not as much as- -(y/n) don’t do this, okay? i don’t have time, and- -neither i, lew.

all you hoped was that he gets silent on the end of the line, and thinks about you. how you miss him, how you want him to lay beside you in the night, or keeping his hand on your thigh a little bit possessively when he drives -somewhere, to the place that only you and him know about. but the massive, bitter taste on your tongue didn’t want to let go.

-listen, (y/n), i don’t have time for this. i’m busy, i have to administer a lot, practice a lot, and we are on the edge of fighting. i know it’s hard for you, but you have to get used to it. -and this is not hard for you? those letters don’t matter to you? -jesus, why does every woman be like this? you’re like my mother, y/n.

your face frowned, and your brain fumbled -did he say this for real?

-god no, lew. i’m just worried about you, i care about you, you fucker, i go to sleep with the consciousness that you don’t… you’re not gonna survive, or anything! -that’s right, because i don’t know what’s gonna happen, damn it! i’m going to jump out in the middle of the war, and maybe get injured, but you only worry about your dumb fucking letters!

-then fuck you, okay? how am i supposed to write to you in the middle of the night, when i could sleep too, but keep up to show you that i love you! and you just shit down these letters, how am i supposed to keep everything together when you don’t give a fuck about us, or anything? -you nearly shouted, and you knew that some of his colleagues watch him from the corner of his eyes.

-because you’re fucking perfect, miss “widow of war”, miss “everybody loves me”, and you know everything better than anyone! i hate this, that everytime i get compared to you, and get the shit! -i never wanted to be better, how can you say a thing like this? i love the way you are, lew! but you give up, because mom’s little son never was in the target, where everything’s fucked up! -a single tear wetted your shirt, you stopped your shaking breakdown with the batting of your lashes.

then, it became silent. you didn’t know what was gonna happen, but you hoped that he’s gonna respond, even if your face was nearly bright red from the anger.

-yeah, maybe that’s my fault. but your fault is that you don’t fuck someone better.

the words burned into your ears, sliding down to your stomach, pulled out the worst kind of failure from you.

-fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! -crying out, not knowing that he’s hearing you or not -not caring either-, you flunked the phone with all of your force to the table, trying to get away from it as far as you could.

you didn’t remember much that night, only the sadness blew up in your soul stronger and stronger. you felt so strange in your house, feeling the emptiness like never before -falling on knees, letting the darkness inside.

✧༺♡༻∞　

stepping on the muddy dutch ground, your stomach grumbled at the thought of the things that wait here for you. colonel sink sent a message that the american army in europe needs reinforcement -that’s why you were here, making plenty of good decisions, keeping the battalion, the companies together, and… maybe meeting with your lover. or ex-lover? you didn’t know, you only knew that you’re not gonna let the burning hole inside your soul take the lead ahead.

-it’s such a pleasure to see you, colonel (y/l/n). our state was getting a little bit lower this time, but all of the people fight with all of their force. want some coffee, colonel? -captain heyliger asked you, while you took your coat off, the beige-brown, oversized shirt tucked into your pants covered the white t-shirt you wore, the necklace brushed at your skin. the movement flew with bringing back some bad memories.

-no, thank you. all i want is to jump in the middle of the work, that’s why i’m here -you smiled, hoping that you don’t meet with anyone you don’t want to. but now, lewis and you were exactly neutral to each other, you had nothing to be ashamed of. sitting down in the big office, you began to write, didn’t see who came in -seeing his silhouettes in the glass of the cabinet, for lewis’ fortune, this was the cause of your inner peace. the man behind you didn’t say anything -standing there, you can’t stand a question.

-are you gonna stay there forever, or do you want something? -your voice was never colder towards him. and this wasn’t your fault.

-i just heard that you arrived here. -i did.

silence again. fucking empty, fucking helpless silence.

-and i wanted to talk with you, too. -and what held you back until this time? -’just thought you’re busy -yeah, i was busy searching for another man, you could say, but didn't have the courage to say it. after the loss, with broken skin and soul, you never wanted to give him a broken heart too. -yeah, i was. -but i’m here now. and i’m talking with you. or at least i want to. -and what if i don’t want to, huh? perhaps nothing, because you don’t care about my feelings -echoing this sentence in your mind, you didn’t let out. let him talk. maybe he can be better this time, no?

lewis stepped closer, his frame in the sharp gaze got heavier and taller.

-and… i wanted to say sorry. for everything i said before. and those unsent letters, those unspoken words that show how much i love you. and that how much i missed you, for real. not just your silly but meaningful worries, or the moments we made together… i want you back. i want you back with all of this stuff, and i know that i barely can make up for this, i should have written those letters, but… turns out that really, i am the asshole.

you stayed quiet, all the time he spoke, he had a little bit thinner voice -another sign that he rarely did this in his life. and yeah, maybe lewis was sometimes an asshole, your asshole, the biggest asshole you could imagine… but in the end, lewis was just himself. lewis was lewis, the little bit alcoholic, loudmouthed as hell, yet mostly dependable, protective friend. and boyfriend, how good boyfriend.

-i understand, if you don’t want to stay with me, or… anythin- you didn’t let him to end the sentence, standing up, turning to him, giving him hope like you always had. standing before lewis, you saw the rough circles under his eyes, the little, hairline-thin, maroon tears on his cheeks or his lips, you realized you can’t be mad at him.

-i want to stay with you, forever. i just thought that… you think the things serious, what you told me. i don’t want another, i want you, too. i want your love, so just please… show me, okay?

his eyes melted at your silent words, almost whispers in his ears, fading beside the beating of his blood. sliding one of his arms around your waist, just how you like, bringing you closer to him -just like on one of the nights in each other’s presence-, his other arms’s fingers sliding through yours, just like your favourite book what he bought for you months ago; you don’t wanted to end it without him.

-i’ll always show you, miss perfection -his voice is totally harmless, a silk that brushes against your ear, you smile a little bit, finding the pieces from the two of you that belong together -because that’s how it works. grabbing a little bit on his lusty hands, almost brushing your cheeks against his; -thank you. i almost wanted to search for someone better -you began, enjoying teasing him-, but guess i’m too tired for it. i found the best, it’s so hard to look for another.

his smirk woke the most powerful love in the pit of your heart, leaning closer to him, giving a kiss to your temple, your brain almost got too dizzy already. -too tired, hm?

all you were able to do is a weak-at-the-knees nod, smiling like never in the former months. lewis chuckled a little bit, bringing your lips to his, letting all the air and soreness running out from you, his hands and lips burning on your body like the good old times back in the time;

-what a shame.

[lewis-winters]

Hi ♥️ could you please make a headcanon about how Lewis and Dick meet and fall in love with each other in modern times? Thank you!

I'm sorry this might end up sounding like such a lazy answer but I kinda... already did make one? My Beatrix Nixon AU where Lewis is a single dad to a very precocious little girl is my Winnix Modern AU. The link brings you to a post that details it.

And I guess here's something I wrote for that AU (back last Christmas but never really finished (and will never finish) on account of... um. Catching a case of InsecureAboutMyWriting-itis). Mostly an examination of Lew's feelings about Dick (and by extension, his family) coming into the picture and making their little duo into a trio:

When they reach the ground floor, they find that a little dance party is in full swing, with Louis Armstrong crooning away on the Bluetooth speakers as the elder Richard Winters Sr swings Bea around in a simplified version of a lindy hop and Edith Winters tries to keep them on beat from her spot on the couch. Bea’s giggling up a storm, flushed again, but this time from happiness instead of cold, and Lew stops a minute to admire the scene.

Back when it had been just the two of them, Lew hadn’t found much time to swing her around like that, always coming home tired and practically brain dead, barely able to keep his eyes open to thank either Lip or Kitty for taking care of his baby before collapsing on the couch he’d kept in Bea’s bedroom, so that the first thing she’d wake up to was him. There was a time when that had been all the bonding they were allowed. Dozing together all through the night, then a sleepy breakfast that usually ended with them flying out the door so Lew can bring her to daycare then rush to his office to get in before anybody reprimands him for being late. It got better over time, of course, when he found a job that offered actual decent hours and a more reasonable work load, but some days Lew thinks about the hours he’s wasted sitting on a desk and pleasing a boss he didn’t even like instead of making Bea laugh like that.

But then again, maybe that’s what grandparents are for?

Not that Lew would know.

“Here,” Ann says, smiling at Lew as Dick pulls him to sit at the kitchen table, before handing him a mug packed to the brim with little multi-colored marshmallows. If he tilts it just so, he could actually see the hot chocolate it’s supposed to be floating in. But only slightly. “The little lady made it just how you like it.”

“Thanks,” Lew takes a sip and gets a mouthful of marshmallows. “For this and for tumbling around with her out there.”

“Oh, Lewis, no problem! You know I love having her around.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re her new favorite.”

Ann preens a bit. “Well,” she says, pleased. “There’s no beating you, though.”

That isn’t true. There is definitely some beating going on. When she had been little, there was no doubt there; Bea adored him, even when he’d been gone for most of the day, she adored him. Most of the time, he’d get texts from her from the simple Nokia phone he’d given her for emergencies, her little baby thumbs clumsily penning ‘how are you’s and ‘when are you coming home, Daddy’s that made Lewis feel inexplicably loved. He’d lost quite a bit of weight around this time, too, mostly due to the overwhelming stress, but also because he used to spend his lunch breaks talking to her on the phone instead of actually eating lunch. On the weekends, he’d stay in, curled up on the couch with her as he suffered through Saturday morning cartoon after cartoon until she got bored and begged him to take her to the park where they would run around together until the sun went down. Then, they’d end the day sitting on the curb, having hotdogs for dinner.

They’d gone years like that, just the two of them, and for someone like Lew, who never really had anything resembling what he was to Bea, he’d figured that had been enough. When Lew had been little, everything came and went so fast. Even Blanche, who’d been wrested from him as soon as she’d learned how to have opinions that were actually interesting enough to capture flighty Lewis’ attention. Bea had been his first permanent fixture, in a way. The catalyst that made Lew’s foundation-less existence finally take form around him and become something resembling meaningful. To have to suddenly let her go, to share her with new people who aren't just baby sitters but actual, permanent fixtures in their lives, after years of her being his whole world, made him feel a little put out.

But he swallows his pride and his mouthful of marshmallows and leans against the arm Dick has over his shoulders, making sure none of the melancholy shows. Bea’s world isn’t so small anymore and for that, he is glad. This, and all he’s given her, is so much more than he’s ever had and, really, it’s selfish to want her so close all the time. In his head, he hears Blanche admonish him; “She’s a child, Lewis. Not a toy. We were toys, and you know what that was like. Do you want that for her?”

Lew takes another mouthful of marshmallows and finally gets to the hot chocolate underneath. No. No, he does not. Never will.

With a giggle that is more of a shriek, Bea comes bounding in, ever a ball of energy, black curls forming a kind of halo around her head that frames her cherub-like face just so, it makes Lew smile again, veins coursing with the very same warmth he’d felt that morning, when he’d woken up to her leaning over him, grinning like some manic serial killer. He puts down his mug and opens his arms to her in silent invitation.

Bea doesn’t hesitate to climb into his lap. “Uncle Rich and Aunt Eddie went upstairs to go and change,” she tells him, dutifully. “Then we’re gonna go make those sugar cookies.”

Dick reaches over to tuck a few fly-aways behind her ear. The little girl practically purrs, delighted to be receiving so much attention, leaning into Dick’s hand when he flattens it on her cheek to pull her close enough to him to lay a kiss on the tip of her nose. The movement means Dick has to lean forward against Lew to press their own two heads together, prompting Dick to go the extra-mile and kiss Lew, too, but on the shell of his ear. The result, of course, leaves them in a weird, twisted position, where to the outside eye, they must appear to be some odd, inter-connected entity of three heads and twelve limbs, fused together by a few kisses.

Lew wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You have fun at your little Zumba class?” Lew asks her, after she’s pulled away from Dick enough to properly look at Lew again.

“Mhmm,” she hums into his collar. “Can you get me a glass of water, please?”

“Oh, and why can’t you get it yourself?” Lew gasps, moving her so he can assess her from head to toe. “Are you hurt? Do your legs no longer work?” He helps her bend them at the knee. “Hmmm, seems to be just fine.”

“Daddy…”

“Your hands? Let me see your hands, young lady.”

Knowing that she can never win with him like this, Bea shows him her hands, giggling despite her indignance when Lew examines them, wiggling her fingers one by one, then kissing her knuckles when he’s done.

“Just as I suspected,” he proclaims, grandly. “Perfectly working legs and hands. Now tell me, why can’t you get that glass of water yourself?”

Bea pouts. “The water tastes different when you get it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m the only one who actually walks the extra three steps to get the bottled water from the fridge instead of the one from the tap,” he laughs when she pouts harder, and kisses that away, too. “Go walk your little tushy over there and get it yourself, BumbleBea. Go on. Get.”

She does as told with only just a little whine, and when Lew turns back to the room at large, he sees Dick smiling at him with a look so fond, Lew feels it in his toes

[luminouslywriting]

Can I request a BOB headcanon where you haven't been sleeping well recently and the boys begin to notice that you're a bit sleep deprived, please?

^^Gif is not mine and belongs to yourspeirs^^

A/N: Hello darling! This is a great request and I'm super excited to get this out to you guys! School started today, I got to wear my vintage 1955 lipstick that I ordered, and I'm chillin! So enjoy!

Dick Winters:

-Honestly, he probably clocks it before you even realize that the exhaustion is setting in. He's someone who pays close attention to the little things and is going to encourage you to get some rest.

-And yes, this may be given in the form of an order if you don't listen to him at first

-But if he also realizes that you're having a hard time sleeping, he's going to have a few good ol' home remedies for such a situation

-There's this wonderful tea that he makes (if the resources are available), and it absolutely helps you relax right before you go to sleep. He's also more than happy to talk to you about plans for the future as you try to fall asleep if that will help.

Lewis Nixon:

-Haha, he's not getting any good rest either. But worry not, he's got a great solution 👀

-Yes, it's literally just: "You're having trouble sleeping? I'm having trouble sleeping? The solution clearly is that we sleep together. But literally, just sleep."

-He's a chronic cuddler and this is a great way for you to get comfortable and relax. If not, he's also more than happy to look for alternative means

-Otherwise, get comfy as he doesn't like to let go until late morning haha

Ronald Speirs:

-Is probably too busy to notice?? At least at first. If it's to a point that he's noticing it, then it's probably a definite problem and he's definitely going to just give you an order to go to sleep.

-And yes, he'd go to your superior officers about it or even to the medics and order you to have a nap

-He's not above using his position to ensure that you get the proper rest that you need

-Speirs cares...it's just in his own way and that means that he's going to do whatever it takes to ensure that you're feeling better :)

Buck Compton:

-Someone who picks up on it pretty quickly and gently prods about it. He's got all sorts of stories that he remembers from his history and literature classes in college that he can tell you about while you're trying to fall asleep

-He's also pretty attentive to figuring out if it's a noise issue or a light issue and finding ways to block out sound or help with the light.

-He's going to check in and make sure that the sleep is getting better and this is something that continues well after the war

-He remembers the little things :)

Carwood Lipton:

-A mother hen about the entire thing—he's out here clocking immediately that you're exhausted and not looking too good. He's worrying incessantly.

-He's not going to overstep his boundaries...but he might kindly suggest that you speak to the medics or to a superior officer about catching a few hours of rest

-Will check back in with you to see if you were able to rest. If you were, then great. If not...then he's going to be pulling out all the stops and is going to come and lay by you until you fall asleep.

-Literally the sweetest man to go to if you're sleep deprived.

Joe Liebgott:

-Doesn't really realize that it's a problem until you're probably swaying on your feet

-It's at this point that he's going to gracefully guide you over to a cot or somewhere that you can nap and is going to sweet talk you into getting the rest that you need

-Wants to know why you didn't tell him that you haven't been sleeping well lately....he just wants you to be okay and well rested

-Also might bribe you with some slightly dirty promises haha

Donald Malarkey:

-Has clocked this a while ago and is just patiently waiting for you to realize that you need to get some rest. He's very respectful of boundaries and wants you to make your own decisions.

-Is not above stealing some chocolate to bribe you into taking a nap haha

-Absolutely the type to encourage you to count sheep or stars to try and help you fall asleep

-Also a very good cuddler to help people fall asleep

Eugene Roe:

-The sweetest bestest man for this situation??? Like, listen, he gets it. This is also someone who is sleep deprived. However, he worries way more about you and your health.

-Will pull medical rank to ensure that you get your nap

-Also more than willing to sneak you something to make sure that you fall asleep haha

-But more than anything, he's the type of man to tell you old Cajun tales in his soft voice to get you sleepy

Bill Guarnere:

-Literally will point blank tell you to go take a nap

-Then in a much softer and sweeter tone, will swing his arm around you, and ask if he can take a nap with you

-He's very invested in making sure that you're well rested and is the type of man to bribe with food and other means to ensure that you listen to what your body needs—and that's sleep

-Will talk your ear off about what it's going to be like when you're sleep deprived after the war and WHY you're going to be sleep deprived. I promise it's for a much dirtier reason lol.

Joe Toye:

-Acts as though he himself is tired and needs to take a nap. And point blank asks if you'll help him fall asleep.

-This technique is sneaky and though you might pick up on it, it's the thought that counts here

-He's out here ensuring that you don't feel like you're stressing him out by doing this—and making you feel as though you're helping him just as much as he's helping you

-Honestly, this man is a 10/10 in this situation

George Luz:

-Makes you laugh so hard that you cry out of exhaustion and then asks you if you're tired so that you have to admit it

-At which point he just takes your hand and declares that you're going to take a nap and he's going to watch your back for you

-It's all very sweet and very Luz of him tbh

-Holds your hand until you're asleep and presses a kiss to your forehead

[himbowelsh]

(Sorry if you're not comfortable with this I'm fairly new to the fandom so pls ignore if you are) Headcanons that include the BoB guys falling in love, mannerisms and speech and such?

Richard Winters

keeps it to himself.  when dick is falling in love, neither god nor man would be able to tell, he plays his cards that close to the chest.

(or course, lewis nixon is neither god nor man, just somewhere in between. he figures it out in a second, and teases dick mercilessly.)

lots of lingering stares, gentle half-smiles, more patience than he would  ---  or possibly should  ---  have.  dick falling in love gradually becomes more and more tolerant of things he would disapprove of in anyone else.

the sort of person who just...  becomes so unbearably fond of someone that their flaws seem insignificant.  there’s nothing he can’t forgive, nothing they can’t work past together.  he loves everything about them, even their worst parts, at least a little bit.

basically he’s just normal dick, nothing has changed, except...  he’s a softer version of dick.  soft dick all over the place.

Lewis Nixon

he’s...  not very subtle about it, but in a very nix way.

his flirting is obvious.  like, it’s obvious to anyone looking in his direction.  he’s not subtle about it; and while he’s capable of being smooth, he’s also kind of earnest, devoting so much of his attention to his person of interest that he’s able to ignore everything else.

such as responsibilities.  when he’s supposed to be somewhere, and he’s not there, 100% chance nix is with his crush.  when he’s in love with someone, he just wants to be around them as long as they’ll tolerate him; he practically becomes their sardonic shadow.

lots of gifts.  like, things just appear in the person’s rooms, complete with a wry little note from nix.  he never makes a big deal out of it, but he compulsively buys his love interest things when the opportunity arises.

allows himself unexpected moments of sincerity  ---   like a mask slipping for just a moment, when his guards are all down and he’s able to be honest with the one person in the world he’s actually brave enough to reveal himself to.  

when nix loves someone, he slowly allows them to see the messiest parts of him  ---  because he knows he can’t hide them forever, and it’s easier for them to know from the get-out than to stop loving him down the line.

Carwood Lipton

so chill about it, you honestly wouldn’t be able to tell.

lip isn’t even a super private person like dick, he’s just...  able to fuction normally, even when his heart is doing a complete 360-degree flip over someone.  he treats them the same way he always has, doesn’t fawn over them of go out of his way...  he’s just regular old lip.

except for the lingering stares, and the fond smiles he doesn’t bother to suppress.  except for how he’s always got an eye on them, just...  making sure they’re alright whenever he’s around, in case they need something.  except for the fact that if they do need something, he’ll go out of his way  ---  maybe to an unreasonable degree  ---  to get it.  he’ll drive three towns over just to get them a specific ice cream brand they’re craving.

which is out of character for lip, but he’ll do it, because it’s them.  he’d go out of his way for any one of his friends, but wouldn’t move mountains except for this one person.  they’re special to him.  somehow, without him even realizing it, they mean everything to him.

Ron Speirs

well, he didn’t mean to catch these feelings, but now that they’re here he’s just going to have to murder everyone who’s ever looked at his partner wrong

no.  okay, ron...  ron does get a little overprotective at times.  he’s good at being in love, but falling in love is unpredictable.  it’s unsteady, it’s uncertain, anything could happen  ---  his protective instincts are triggered. so when he finds himself falling for someone, he keeps a constant eye on them.   they don’t ever need to worry as long as he’s around; they don’t need to be afraid of anything.  honestly, it can get a little too intense, if he lets it.

if ron recognizes he’s being too overbearing, he’ll back off.  pining from afar is also something he’s surprisingly good at.  gentle stares from across the room, half-smiles at things they say, wry comments meant for their ears alone.  if he can be comfortable in silence alongside them, it’s a big thing for him.

love letters.  this is a big thing.  ron’s not always great at expressing his feelings verbally, so he finds a real release through writing.  this really helps his love interest understand where he’s coming from, and get to know his heart clearly.  when ron bares his soul in prose, it’s difficult not to fall in love with him.

Harry Welsh

eager beaver.  like, he’ll bounce at the chance to do anything for them at any time.  oh, that bag looks heavy, he can get that!  he’s just gonna...  casually hold this door open, you know, like a gentleman.  paying for their own drinks?  oh no, don’t worry, he’s got it covered.

the worst part is, he thinks he’s slick.

can actually be the softest man in the world when he’s in love; he’ll absolutely dote on a partner.  

some of the guys here are actual disasters, they don’t know how to even admit it to themselves  ---  not harry.  when harry’s in love, the whole world gets to know it.  he’ll talk about how great they are to anyone who’ll listen; and if he and his partner are on the same page, he’ll tell them he loves them every chance he gets.  there’s never any question to how harry’s feeling, because he says it.

heart eyes for his partner at any and all times, even when they’re doing something as mundane as reading a book.

Buck Compton

he just glows whenever he’s around them.  it’s not something buck can help.  it’s like...  being in his partner’s presence gives him more energy, more vitality, the drive to do and be more.  he’s fueled by their attention and the desire to impress, to be worthy of them.

not reticent about his feelings.   he’ll freely admit them, but it won’t be, “yeah, i love them”; buck will go on about how much he admires them, talking people’s ears off about their abilities and virtues.  if buck falls in love with someone, he already holds them in the highest esteem, and honestly wants to be able to blab about how great they are.

people don’t give him credit for how emotional he can be; but once he’s fallen for someone, he opens up to them more and more.  it’s a challenge to reveal his vulnerabilities without being afraid, but as he grows to love them more, he trusts them too.

George Luz

if possible, he becomes even more luz-ish than normal.  like...  his regular personality is turned up to eleven.  he craves his love interests attention like a drowning man craves air, and he goes out of his way to seek it out.

lots of flirting, lots of teasing.   if they’re around, most of his jokes are directed towards them, like it’s a battle just to make them laugh.  it’s painfully obvious where his attention is.

yeah, he’s joking around a lot, and maybe flirting a bit too much to be casual, but...  he’s also looking out for them.  if they need help with something, he jumps at the chance to do it.  any favor, any time, george is ready.

he also likes to teach them things.  something as simple as a card game, or how to fix a broken sink  ---  it gives him the chance to show off his skills a little, try to impress them, prove he knows what the hell he’s talking about...  and just to be around them.  he eats up every second he gets to spend with them.

sometimes he gets flustered.  if they’re not in a relationship yet, and his love interest were to question him about his feelings, he wouldn’t know what to say; he’d run a hand through his already-messy hair, chuckling while averting his eyes, and try to brush the question off with a charming deflection.  it wouldn’t work.  he’s lots of things, but not subtle.

Joe Toye

joe toye is so capable of being soft around the people he loves that it’s frankly obscene.

he definitely becomes more protective of them.  like...  love is already an uncertain thing, he doesn’t want to lose it when they’ve barely just begun...  and he’s never forgive himself if something bad happened to them.  Protective Toye Mode is in full gear.

has infinitely more patience, and is able to let his guards down around them more.  he jokes around more, in his understated way.  he watches them when they’re too busy with work to look up, a proud smile on his face.  sometimes he can’t resist reaching out and touching them, surprising even himself.

he’s so soft, guys.  he just wants to be around them and take care of them  ---  honestly, he’d do anything for them if they let him.

Eugene Roe

honestly, he’s not sure where to start.

it doesn’t blindside him.  getting close to people doesn’t come easily to gene; it’s a slow process, and he’s aware ever step of the way that this person is steadily growing in importance to him. it takes him a little while to recognize it as love, but once he gets there...  yeah.

he’s cautious about it  ---  tries as hard as he can not to let it show.   being in love is kind of scary for him, actually.  he’d really need encouragement from the other person, and the feel comfortable around them.   he’d need to see there’s interest there, otherwise he might actually talk himself out of his own feelings.   (jesus christ, gene, why are you like this)

quietly so proud of them, and quick to praise.  his sweet little smile makes his love interest feel warm all over, and when his eyes go soft and unbearably fond like that...

gene’s love is a quiet thing, but it blossoms more every day.   it needs sunlight, nourishment, and kindness to grow.

Bill Guarnere

literally his partner’s hype man.  they are amazing and he wants the world to know it.

like, bill in love isn’t that different from regular bill, but he gets invested.  he becomes ride-or-die.  would murder someone for his partner without question and bury the body together as a sign of their love.

definitely a show-off.  yeah, his partner’s incredible, but he wants them to think he’s just as cool.  bill might get a bit more reckless in pursuit of their attention, push his own limits (and the limits of common sense) a bit more.  his love interest shouldn’t let him go too crazy, because he might end up losing another leg.  

he may still be regular ol’ guarnere, but wild bill ain’t cooking a four-course authentic italian dinner for just anybody.  bill’s romantic side starts coming out in spades.  he feels more compelled to take care of them, do stuff for them.  it gives him a sense of usefulness; he loves feeling needed by them.

Babe Heffron

cheesy pickup lines x1000.  the worst part is, he thinks they’re actually good.

babe’s actually functional when he’s falling in love with someone.  honestly, he enjoys the feeling.  falling in love’s a beautiful thing!  almost as beautiful as the person he loves!  let’s enjoy it while it lasts.

he’s not shy about flirting with them, but can actually act like a normal person, too.  he doesn’t get all tongue-tied and stuttery; he just loves talking to them, having conversations and spending time with them and sharing his own interests while learning their own.  eats up every bit of attention they give him.

lowkey wants to do so many things with them, but plays it cool.   invites them places, like out dancing, to his favorite restaurants, anywhere they might have a good time.  by sharing these memories with them, babe feels like he’s sharing parts of himself, too...  and god, it sure is fun to be in love.

Joseph Liebgott

what are these feelings and who put them there without his permission

lowkey, he’d choke on the love at first.  probably think it was indigestion or something, hope he’d get over it...  but the feeling would only grow, and slowly joe realizes he’s in over his head.  there’s no way out.  somehow, he’s fallen in love, and he wasn’t prepared damn it.

plays it cool.   he’s not in any hurry to admit his feelings; he knows, and that’s what matters most.  he’s not gonna confess to anything until he thinks there’s a strong chance they’ll reciprocate, so he just...  hangs out for a while.

somehow, when his love interest needs something, he’s there.  it’s like joe’s got a spidey sense for when they’re in trouble  ---  even if they just need help opening a damn jar of pickles  ---  because he’s at their side, ready to talk or fight, whatever’s needed.

doesn’t snap around them as much.  actually, he has moments when he’s downright...  soft.  it’s like all his harsh edges are being sanded down; he even lets his guards down sometimes and reveals flashes of emotional vulnerability, which he wouldn’t do for just anyone.  joe liebgott being soft  (when no one’s mortally injured)  is the #1 indication he’s caught the lovebug.

David Webster

he’s not...  unbearable about it.   it’s kind of cute, in a “romeo pining for juliet from the shadows outside her window” sort of way.

webster is very quiet about falling in love.  he...  watches a lot, just observing whenever he has the pleasure of being around them.  he notices all their habits, all their quirks, and can’t help finding them all endearing.  even if it’s habits he usually hates, like talking while chewing or mimicking someone badly...  he gets a little love-blind for a while.

won’t talk about his feelings to anyone, but will write them all down.  his journal reads like he’s a 7th grade girl with a crush.  sometimes he tries to get really poetic, and express the true nuance of his soul being drawn towards a kindred spirit, but he can’t formulate his thoughts as well in the moment.

they become his muse, at least; he can write better when thinking of them, and might even be bold enough to share some of his writing, just to see their reactions.

not about to write love poems himself, but he knows a few beautiful ones offhand, and will share them with his love interest  ---  a subtle way of confessing his feelings to them through proxy, and sharing something special between each other.

Floyd Talbert

tab’s flirty by nature, but when he falls in love with someone...  all that confidence slowly melts away.   he no longer has any desire to present a facade to them, because he’s not trying to woo anymore, he’s trying to love.

he becomes more straightforward and serious around them.  he’s still his normal self, but there’s an earnest sincerity that wasn’t there before.  he’s not making any attempts to impress them.  he is how he is, after all; if he loves them for themselves, they’ll have to love him the same way.

(he can’t breathe a genuine sigh of relief until he’s got affirmation that they do.)

no more super fun, casual dates.  now tab wants to go for long nature walks and talk about their emotions.   he wants to learn more about his partner, to see the parts of them they’re scared to reveal.   nature is also something important to him, and he wants to share that part with them.

floyd in love becomes...  a more genuine version of himself.

Donald Malarkey

a really nice guy, and not in a gross way.

don’s just...  a nice guy in general, but when he’s falling in love, he’s at peak sweetness.  he gets them gifts just for the fun of it, tries to write songs for them  (well, he does his best), and comes up with dates centered around all the things they love to do.  he’s uber considerate, and really sweet about it.

don’s honest with himself about his feelings, and he’s willing to be honest with anyone else as well.  far as he’s concerned, being in love isn’t anything to be ashamed of, especially not with someone so amazing.

the corny jokes will probably be turned up to the max, though, and they’ll be a lot of playful flirting just to see his partner’s reaction.  don dotes on them, but most importantly, he knows how to have fun when it comes to love.

Skip Muck

kind of a tease, but in the best way.  skip isn’t great at flirting when he really means it; there’s a difference between batting his eyes at someone across a dance hall and falling in love, and skip in love feels like he’s in over his head.

he’ll joke around with them a lot, but also kind of fall into a big-brother role  ---  looking out for them, helping them, showing them how to do things if they’ll let him.  

he feels comfortable acting this way, like he’s significant to them.   even if they don’t feel the same way, he enjoys having their attention on him for the moment, and cultivates it.

will definitely have cracks in his armor.  honestly, when he falls in love, he’s not that subtle about it.  suddenly, he can no longer make dirty jokes around them; he can’t pretend to flirt without blushing and tripping over his words; he catches himself watching them for too long, and idly humming love songs after they’ve just left the room.

god, he’s a wreck.   he feels like an idiot around them, and doesn’t know how to deal with it...  so eventually he’s just going to have to come right out and say it.

[anthrobrat]

7, winnix ❤️

Kiss Prompt #2! Finally! (~1700 words)

(This one got away from me a bit)

Title: Monday Morning Song

Pairing: Winters/Nixon

Rating: R Rated but not explicit? I’m a terrible judge.

Notes: Sorry this took so long, but after a week-long bout of writers block, here it is. Thank you @churchkey for all the inspiration and daily doses of Winnix HCs! This is for you!

7. routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing

“Do you ever wonder if we’re in a rut?” Lew asked on a random Monday morning over coffee, eggs, and toast.

“What do you mean? Are you not happy?”

“Woah, Dick, no reason to jump to those conclusions. I just mean, do you ever wonder if we’re just doing the same things over and over and nothing changes? It’s not a bad thing, it’s just -- I don’t know -- a rut.” Lew shrugged his shoulders so as to seem noncommittal about it all. Noncommittal was a good stance, right?

Dick stared at him. He really was hoping to avoid having to explain himself, but apparently that was not going to happen on this particular Monday morning. For all the times they could communicate with just a look or a touch, he supposed this was not one of them. So much for being soulmates, he would just have to use his fucking words.

“You know… We get up, we have coffee, eggs, and toast, you kiss me goodbye, and then you go to work ridiculously early and I stroll in two hours later. We come home, you attempt dinner, I eat it without grimacing, and then we go to sleep. Dick. We fuck on Wednesdays and Saturdays.”

“That’s not --”

“Wednesdays and Saturdays. I was an S2. Keeping track of things is second nature still. You want to see my journal?”

At this, Dick’s look of confusion turned to something far too close to hurt. Lew’s heart twisted at that look. After Germany he had promised himself he would try to keep that look off of Dick’s face as much as possible. But today he felt like he might crawl out of his skin, and he didn’t have the will to keep it in.

Lew wanted to reach out, but his stubborn hands remained wrapped around his mug. “I swear I’m not unhappy, okay? I love our life. Do you? Or are you just, I don’t know, going through the motions out of some weird guilt or loyalty?”

“For Pete’s Sake, Lew, I’m happy. This is the best… I’ve never… This is it for me, okay? But this is who I am. You know that. You lived by my watch for three years. Did you not notice?”

“No. I know. But that was war, and we needed it. Now? I don’t know. Just go to work, I’ll feel better once I shower. November is always a weird time of year, you know how I am.”

“I do know how you are, Lew.” Dick brushed a foot across his ankle. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

Lew shrugged again for good measure, hoping to find any last answers in his coffee before raising his eyes to gaze at his lover. He tried to loosen the tension in his shoulders and smile, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. He wished he could find a way to explain what he was feeling. He knew he’d get past this, but he just couldn’t see the other side yet. For a man who had excelled at understanding oppositions, who had been promoted for his ability to problem solve, this disorientation was daunting. 

Dick eventually got up and walked around behind him, grabbing his plate and empty mug and dropping them in the sink before he walked out of the kitchen and bounded up the stairs to get dressed for work. 

Lew tried, once again, unsuccessfully, to shake off whatever was weighing him down. He picked up the newspaper and turned to the funnies even though it would set the whole stack out of order. Add that to this morning’s tab, he supposed. 

He had just finished the last of the cartoons and was working on the puzzle at the bottom when Dick walked back into the kitchen to grab his lunch box. Out of habit, Lew leaned forward and presented his forehead when he felt Dick turn toward him. Dick bussed him on his forehead like usual, but as he was about to move away, stopped and pressed a little harder. His hand came up and around Lew’s neck to hold him there for a few seconds before Dick backed away, cleared his throat, and walked back out of the kitchen. 

“I’ll see you there in a few hours?” He yelled over his shoulder.

“They keep paying me, so I’ll keep showing up,” Lew mumbled with a smile that felt a little more natural.

Dick huffed out a laugh as he shut the front door. When it slammed, Lew slumped down in his chair. He shut his eyes and tried to just breathe, but when he opened them again he had crumpled an entire section of the newspaper in his hand.

Lew finally trudged upstairs and turned the shower on. While it heated, he sat on the toilet seat with his head in his hands. Maybe this was just what life would be, right? It wasn’t bad. He hadn’t lied. This life was more than he had ever even considered hoping for. 

He continued to ponder as the shower’s water sluiced over his head and down his back. Dick had been his beacon for five years now, calling him home again and again. He could get over the fact that the man was regimented. He watched the water fill the tub around his feet. Maybe he would just have to fill his own spontaneity in around Dick’s rigid pillars.

Just when he was coming around to a plan, he heard the bathroom door open and close. He stood frozen, one hand in his hair, ears perked. A belt buckle being undone. Pants swishing to the floor. Finally, the curtain opened to reveal one Dick Winters, in all his red headed glory. 

“How in the hell are you back?”

“I got two blocks from the house before I turned around. Called Mary at the office. Said I poisoned myself and my roommate with last night’s dinner. Terrible mishap. Told her I doubt we’ll be in today, with getting sick every ten minutes.”

Lew could do nothing but stare, mouth agape, at this man. He was happy to note that Dick was willing to take full advantage of his surprise, leaning in and thrusting his tongue into Lew’s open mouth. He stood there, under the warm spray, with Dick’s arms around him, for what felt like forever before he pulled away for breath. 

“You called us in sick? You… you called our office and told them we were sick when we are not sick?”

“Yes, Lew, that is exactly what I did. Do you not remember Heguen--”

“I’ve tried to forget most of that, yes.”

“Hmm.” Dick thread his hands through Lew’s hair in a gesture that was, by nature. quite soothing. “Well if we can lie to a Colonel, we can lie to Mary and your father.”

Dick seemed to laugh to himself at that, before wrapping his arms around Lew’s shoulders and kissing him once again. Lew’s brain finally caught up at that, and he slid his hands around Dick’s hips. 

Lew spun them so Dick could also enjoy the warm water of the shower while they continued to explore each other’s mouths. His hands slid from Lew’s shoulders to his chest before he lowered them to his hips. Dick turned them once again so Lew was blocking the water and used the grip to lever himself down to his knees. 

“Jesus, Dick, what are you --”

“I know it’s not Wednesday, but I figured that wouldn’t bother you.” 

It is certainly no bother floated through Lew’s mind, and maybe out through his mouth as well, he honestly couldn’t tell, as Dick went about blowing his mind on a Monday morning at 8am. He threaded his fingers through Dick’s hair as he was dragged over that razor’s edge of pleasure. 

Dick stood back up and kissed Lew once more on his mouth. “Happy Monday, Lew. What should we do with the rest of the day?”

If it were up to Lewis Nixon they would have spent the rest of the day in bed, but he enjoyed sitting under the tree in the backyard, bundled in their sweaters and scarves, while Dick read to him. The fall weather was still hanging on, so they ate lunch on the porch as well.

“I can be spontaneous, you know. Order is comfortable to me. I just need you to remind me sometimes.” Dick blurted out over their ham and cheese sandwiches. Nix was surprised to have a soda in his hand instead of whiskey, but it fit the mood. 

“I think I’m still used to following your order. We’ll grow out of it though, right?”

“Yea. Yea, I think we will. Might take some time, though.”

“Well, I’ve got plenty of it, I hope.” At that, Lew turned to face Dick, whose hair had caught the afternoon light, and smiled. It finally felt natural again. “Maybe finally being the sole proprietor of my time is the issue.”

“Hmm” was the only thing Dick said in reply, but he reached over and threaded his fingers between Lew’s, like maybe he was the only other person who knew exactly what that meant. 

The next morning, Lew woke once again to the smell of bacon and coffee. He felt the smile spread across his face before he rolled out of bed. When he walked into the kitchen and sat at the table, his plate of food and mug of coffee were waiting for him. 

“Mornin’ Lew.” Dick’s voice was too perky for the early hour, but the kiss he laid on Lew’s mouth on his way to the table made up for the abrasively happy tone in his voice. 

Lew quirked a brow back at him. “Mornin’ Major.”

They sat and ate in comfortable silence, Dick’s foot nestled in the cradle of Lew’s own feet, toes rubbing along the bone of his ankle. 

Lew opened his favorite part of the newspaper as Dick bustled around the kitchen and ran back upstairs to finish getting ready. He came back down, grabbed his lunch, and turned. Lew’s forehead was, once again, leaned forward awaiting Dick’s lips. He obliged. This might just be what love is supposed to feel like.

[ralphspina]

Autumn Beginnings

A little something for @speirtongirl ❤

Carwood Lipton interviews for a job and it looks like it’s going to be the start of something good.

Taglist: @gottapenny @itisjustmethistime @indigosandviolets @purplelavalamp 

-----------------

When it opened there was nothing like it in the world. Three years later and there still isn’t really. The main building of the institute looks almost made for giants, it’s so massive. The four other buildings stretched out behind it in almost a v-shape aren’t that much smaller. The structures stand like giants surrounded by a sprawling greenscape dotted with statutes. The impressive campus is topped off by several historic battleships and submarines that are moored at the docks located just behind the buildings. The sight is an impressive one that never fails to make Carwood’s jaw open ever so slightly in wonder and today is no exception. It is far from his first visit to the International Warfare Museum, but it is perhaps his most important visit which means today Carwood’s wonder is soured just a bit with a sense of nervousness.

He takes a deep breath as his feet crunch on the bright orange leaves littering the path. He focuses his eyes straight ahead, attempting to concentrate on the reason for today’s visit instead of the scenery around him. Carwood Lipton is here for a job interview. It is perhaps the most important day of his life and if he said he wasn’t nervous, he would be lying. The museum is hiring a new curator for their collection of personal war stories - it’s a job that is right up Carwood’s alley. Battlefield strategy, weaponry, and the grand (and often convoluted) politics of war had never been his thing. No, his interests lay with the men and women on the front lines, the everyday soldiers who fought side by side with their friends, the ones who gave their lives, and those who survived. Carwood had dedicated his studies to their stories and now, armed with a shiny new PhD, he hoped to dedicate his whole career to them, here, at the International Warfare Museum. The prestigious museum houses thousands of accounts that Carwood is itching to dive into.

As Carwood reaches the front entrance, he pauses. Standing in the warm fall sunshine, he takes yet another breath and straightens his tie before walking through the grand front doors. The older gentlemen at the front desk looks up as Carwood walks in, apparently waiting just for him.

“Dr. Carwood Lipton?”

“Yes, sir, that would be me.”

“Excellent. I recognize you from the article I read just yesterday. Fascinating work you do, doctor. Quite fascinating. Now if you’ll just follow me, I’ll show you right away to the interview room.”

Carwood follows the old man as he moves with surprising grace for someone his age through the long and winding hallways towards a suite of offices and conference rooms. They stop just outside an open door where the sound of a friendly debate drifts out into the hallway. The older man knocks on the doorframe and peeks his head inside announcing, “Dr. Lipton is here for the interview.”

“Oh, good. Send him in please.”

The man gestures for Carwood to enter and Carwood nods gratefully at the man as he walks past him and into the room. 

In the room there’s a large dark wood table with five men sitting around it. Carwood can feel his nerves flare up briefly at the sight. While he knew it was a panel interview, he had been expecting three or maybe four people, not five.

“Dr. Lipton,” the red-headed man in the middle stands, “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Dr. Richard Winters and these are my colleagues, Dr. Lewis Nixon, Dr. Harry Welsh, Dr. Ronald Speirs, and Dr. Norman Dike.” Dr. Winters gestures to each man in turn, each one greeting him as they’re introduced. Carwood’s eyes linger a bit too long on the one introduced as Dr. Ronald Speirs, who may in fact be the most handsome man he’s ever seen, but he catches himself and blinks away the thought. He has an interview to concentrate on, after all.

The interview gets underway immediately as Carwood takes his seat. Dr. Winters starts off with some basic questions and Carwood manages to relax a bit. They all take turns  asking their own questions (with the exception of Dr. Dike who appears to wish he was anywhere but here) and the answers flow with surprising ease from Carwood. Slowly but surely, the interview starts to feel more like a friendly chat among colleagues than a formal job interview. Carwood finds he gets on incredibly well with Welsh, Nixon, and Winters. Dike appears to be a lost cause as he spends most of the time doodling in his notebook. Speirs is a hard read - he’s not hostile, but he doesn’t come across as the warm and fuzzy type either. And his rather piercing gaze make’s Carwood’s pulse jump more than once.  But other than his inability to get a good read on Speirs and Dike’s lack of engagement, the interview goes smoother than Carwood could have ever hoped for. The scheduled hour and a half melts away in the blink of an eye and suddenly they’re saying their goodbyes and the older gentlemen from before is escorting him back to the front entrance.

Carwood does his best to keep his cool as he exits the building and makes his way down the front steps. There’s a multitude of thoughts and emotions swirling around inside of him but despite the lingering nerves and doubts, he feels good about the interview. They had all seemed to like him for the most part. Especially Ronald Speirs who had stared at him with an intensity normally reserved for doctoral students scrutinizing their research subject - like at any moment Speirs was going to whip out a pen and paper and start writing a detailed thesis entitled “Carwood Lipton: An In Depth Analysis on Speech Patterns and Facial Expressions” while periodically muttering “fascinating” under his breath. Carwood can’t help but chuckle at the thought. Speirs had been… intense to put it one way, and the way Speirs had looked at him - Carwood couldn’t shake the image of those piercing brown eyes locked on to him (and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to). 

A sudden movement on his left startles Carwood from his thoughts just as he’s reaching the bottom stair. 

Speak of the devil…

Carwood comes to a stop, turning to face the very Dr. Speirs he had just been thinking about. Speirs stops on the stair just above where Carwood stands and offers him a small, brief, smile.

“Dr. Lipton, this, of course, isn’t the official offer but instead of making you wait all weekend, I wanted to let you know that you’ve got the job.”

Carwood is surprised into momentary wordlessness at the quick but welcome news. Speirs extends his hand for a handshake which Carwood gladly accepts.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Dr. Speirs,” Carwood smiles politely at the other man, “I very much look forward to working with all of you.”

Speirs returns the smile as he lets go of Carwood’s hand. “You should be receiving the official phone call Monday.” With that, Speirs turns and makes his way down the rest of the stairs, stopping briefly on the pathway headed towards the left to turn around and call out, “And Carwood? You can call me Ron. See you next week.” There’s a flash of a sharp smile before Ron turns around and makes his way down the path towards one of the other buildings. 

Carwood watches him go for a moment before continuing on his way back to his car. His surprise gives way to a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation and his mouth forms into a grin almost as large as the buildings behind him. There really was nothing in the world quite like this place.

[mercurygray]

The Big BOB OFC Data Dive

When I first joined this fandom in April, it was the middle of a pandemic and all I wanted was a big wish-fulfillment project to work on - and I was surprised to find that, for a 20 year old fandom, Band of Brothers is still going strong, and, perhaps more surprisingly, is representing very well for one of my favorite fandom tropes - the original female character.

After several discussions about overused tropes and pet peeves, and because I am simply odd like this, I wanted to go back through fic to see if there were any patterns over time over a) what professions OFCs are placed in in fic and b) which BoB guys get more OFC attention.

In order to answer this question, I went to two major, cross-fandom archives (AO3 and FF.net) manually scraped data, stuck it in a spreadsheet and played with it a little bit. (Pivot tables; they’re great.) I was going to try and make a graph, but this was already starting to take a little longer than I had anticipated, so I’m going to summarize in words for brevity.

I recognize this is a very small subset of a small fandom. I acknowledge my research method is faulty and would not hold up to peer review. I know that there is a lot more of what I would call 'ephemeral' on platforms like Tumblr that's been excluded from the basis of this survey.

Why not Wattpad, Merc? I chose not to survey Wattpad only because I'm unfamiliar with the platform, and because its search and indexing features make it unfriendly to the manual data collection I was using. Furthermore, as a mixed-use space, I feel the conventions vary strongly from the other two archive spaces represented in the data.

Owing to changes in tagging systems, system purges, and fandom migrations to other platforms, this may be an incomplete dataset, but  still serves to take a look at trends over time. I joked to a friend that this project started feeling a little bit like fandom archeology, going through strata of accepted norms.

AO3 Data:

2020 was the BoB Year of the OFC. In 2020 alone, 35 separate authors updated OFC fics on AO3, compared with 9 the year previous.

I trust myself to have pretty good OFCdar - as in, to be able to watch a show and know who's more likely to show up in these types of fics. When I first watched BoB ten years ago, my money was on Joe Liebgott and Lewis Nixon - and I wasn't wrong. These two have a very strong presence in the AO3 data, followed very quickly by Ron Speirs and Eugene Roe, although Don Malarkey also makes a very strong showing as well.

Lewis Nixon fans are in for the long haul. Nixon was more likely to have multi-part collections or multichapter fics dedicated to him.

There was a strong lull in OFC fandom activity in 2018 - prior to this, many OFC fics were routinely pulling 18-20 kudos. After 2018, the average drops to 10, with some outliers.

FF.net

I was surprised to find that FF.net is still a going concern for a subset of BoB fans; 17 OFC stories were published to the platform in 2020, with minimal duplication in the AO3 set. 

The oldest fic in this set is from 2005, compared with 2011 in the AO3 data. The FF.net stories have a tendency to be longer, multipart fics, written over much longer periods of time. Their summaries tend to fit the legacy format for describing OCs - "[Name] is a [occupation] whose [reason for joining up] will [change her life/finally let her fall in love.]" 

These stories ALSO have a tendency towards what I would call 'heritage tropes' - story ideas that I read a lot of in my early days as a fanfiction author but which I don't see too often in fics now.  There are 5 OCs in this dataset in time-travel fics, but there's also a couple that are magically related to a canon character, and, very interesting to me, there are also three stories where the character joins the company as a DISGUISED woman, a heritage trope if ever there was one. (Thank you, Mr. Shakespeare.)

FF.net OCs are much more likely to fit expected fandom norms in terms of their occupations; the majority are female paratroopers, nurses, or medics. The top romantic interests in this dataset? Richard Winters, Joe Liebgott, and Ronald Speirs, with Don Malarkey and Doc Roe rounding out the top five. BUT I noticed another pattern; when sorted over time, there are bands where multiple authors in the fandom are all writing for the same paraguy - and that that guy changes over time, while the authors remain the same. (You’re writing about Luz? We’re ALL writing about Luz.)

Another interesting trend in this data is the appearance of several authors who are writing what appear to be the forerunners of the now-ubiquitous tumblr reader-insert fic. These are stories in shorter, 1000-2000 word formats, unconnected to other works in a series with an unnamed protagonist whose occupation isn't mentioned in the story description.  They occur in the dataset in blocks by the same author, with three or four stories clumped around the same publish date, and their sole reason for existing seems to be to express or receive romantic interest from/in a paraguy, not tell a particular woman's story.

Takeaways:

Named But Not Appearing In Canon characters, Reader Inserts, and Original Characters are three distinct categories of fic with different target audiences. None of them are 'wrong' in any way, but I feel each should be tagged differently. Kitty Grogan, for instance, is named in the show but never appears, and while we have to speculate on what she's actually like, she's different than the characters we created out of thin air and should be tagged accordingly.

I know several fics being written by acquaintances of mine don't appear in this survey because, while the ship is tagged, they're not tagged as 'Original Female Character (s)' and several Reader Inserts found their way into the dataset because they're tagged incorrectly. (You all should FIX THIS.)

On AO3, fics with more comments were also more likely to have more bookmarks. Since comments are an entry point to beginning a relationship with the work's author, authors who engage in the comments seem to be more likely to have the type of followers who bookmark and return to a work. These works also tend to be longer, supporting the idea that continued engagement with authors over time is a good way to encourage them to keep creating.

[smuggsy]

IN PLAIN SIGHT / Chapter 2 A Band of Brothers Story (Chapter 1) + read it on AO3.

There’s no doubt whatever training these men are being put through is thorough and demanding (not that hers hasn’t been, except she can’t really say she’s been made to run up and down a mountain in full gear in the middle of the bloody night. If anything, she’s been doing quite the opposite: just staying in one specific spot unflinching, unmoving and patiently waiting for her targets to give themselves away and receive a couple of harmless empty shells right in the chest).

Private Christenson keeps putting each foot in front of the other without delay, without stop or hesitation.

She, on the other hand…

“I can’t…” she wheezes, her M1903 dangling from her shoulder - Captain Sobel would surely have something to say about that. Private Brown, pick up that goddamn rifle!

  Christenson is a few steps ahead but glances back nonetheless at her breathless remark.

“Believe me, you don’t want to antagonize Sobel” he provides, turning back front. Olivia frowns but hasn’t got enough breath to muster an answer. She’ll antagonize him, all right, or she’ll fall dead before she can reach the top. “He’ll feist on you, newbie.”

This time she lets out a groan and almost falls face down on the dirt - courtesy of a protruding rock. Christenson looks back to her again at the sound of the near-trip.

“He can’t be that bad!” she says, trying to maybe make conversation and sway her attention from her dry throat and throbbing feet, “go on, I’ll meet ya at the top.”

The other private lets out a snort and - bless him - stops running to look at her hunched over and panting her lungs out. He smiles, the mocking idiot, and shakes his head.

“C’mon man we’re nearly there” he nods towards the darkening path ahead, but Olivia gestures for him to continue with an insistent hand gesture.

  “You go, I’ll catch up” she stands up straight, thinking maybe she shouldn’t be slumping down like that, like a wounded animal. Not a great first impression. “Save yourself from the wrath of the big bad wolf” she smiles, getting just a bit more air in her lungs now.

Christenson returns the smile and slowly resumes his pace, slowly so as to give her a chance to join in.

She doesn’t. She feels faint.

She really wasn’t prepared for this - she’d only been here for thirty minutes, for crying out loud!

You’re supposed to have this mastered, remember?

  Well, sue her. They didn’t have a Currahee to climb back in her training camp.

  Her companion isn’t going to risk getting further punishment himself - he gives a short nod in camaraderie and starts getting further away with every second. Olivia doesn’t blame him at all. She does make it to the top eventually, about twenty minutes after he runs past her again.

In short: she’s screwed.

Christenson is nowhere to be seen when she finally makes it back into the training grounds - but Sobel is standing there like a persevering life-statue of Satan himself, arms crossed and stone-faced.

He doesn’t allow her the time to make any excuses.

“Follow me” he simply says, looking way too pleased with himself, much to Olivia’s chagrin. She’s properly carrying her rifle now, and Private Guarnere’s rucksack is still on her back. Her boots are moody and her pants dirty. As for her lungs… probably barely functional.

She doesn’t appreciate her Captain making her walk the entire length of the camp again only to reach his own office and dump all her belongings at the foot of the steps, at her feet.

“You are not fit to be part of my company, private. I suggest you go back to whatever shithole you came out of and repeat whatever shitty training you got. I’ll see you in a couple of years.”

With that, he starts stomping away.

“Sir -”

And he turns around just as quick, furiously stomps back.

“I did not grant you permission to address me, Private” he speaks slowly, clenching his teeth and eyeing her down like she’s the worst scum of the earth.

“Sir -” she shoulders her rifle and stands up straight. “Permission to speak, sir?”

“Denied.”

You tight-up bastard.

  He resumes his walking to the kitchens - light up and cheery - undoubtedly packed till the last table with freshly-clean and tired paratroopers-to-be.

She knows she’s pushing her luck, but she catches up with him again - only a few more chances to try and make him change his mind before he ventures into the sea of soldiers where she cannot follow - what an embarrassing sight that would be, her being turned down and sent back within the hour.

“Sir, I am a sniper, I have passed all my tests - physical and otherwise - I am prepared to-”

“Well you have not passed my test, private, and this conversation is over.” He doesn’t turn around as he dismisses her again. She’s only grateful he hasn’t called her on her insubordination again - speaking out of turn.

The chanting from the kitchens becomes louder and the lights become stronger as they approach - and Olivia is short of aiming up that gun at the bastard and shooting that hat off his head.

“Sir - Captain Sir -”

“WHAT?” He turns around for the second time, spitting on her face like a venomous snake.

Olivia takes a deep breath and stands up straight again, proud.

“I am the finest sniper in my company sir, you can verify that in my papers! I have been assigned to the Airborne as an asset and to aid my comrades in battle! And rest assured I am qualified to do that, sir!”

Her captain seems to weigh her words for a moment. She holds her breath - he can turn around and push that door open and that’ll be the end of it. Lieutenant Nixon will come out and tell her ‘I told you so’ with an egotistical knowing-smile. Mikey will mention it till she’s gray and pissing her pants. God, her father will never speak to her again!

“Very well” Captain Sobel stands up straight himself, and Olivia thinks she’s misheard. There’s a glint in his eyes that she doesn’t notice - he turns around and enters the noisy lunch place and renders it rather silent. He’s out before she can let out that breath, and he’s holding a glass in his hand. “Let us be witness of your almighty abilities!”

And she’s got an audience now - Christenson among the lot, carelessly sharing a fag with a shorter bloke next to him, coming down the steps.

“I ain’t got all night!” Sobel shouts as he walks away - Olivia catches Lieutenant Nixon’s eyes for a split second before she turns around and walks to that bag of rice her Captain has just hastily thrown onto the ground at her feet. He yanks her rifle off her shoulder just like he did with her muffle bag earlier and he makes a face at it as he finds the safe lock. “Three shots, Private Brown. The chance to prove your worth. You miss, you’re out of my camp.”

“I - my bag sir, the ammo -”

“You won’t be using your rifle” Sobel almost sings in his mocking voice, as if addressing a five-year-old, as if that’s obvious information. The Captain makes a nod to someone near, and Olivia turns around to see a short-haired ginger hand over an M1.

When she looks back to Sobel, he’s well away. Far enough that she wouldn’t even hit a melon with this piece of crap.

Well, make do.

Ignoring the mumbling going on behind her - getting louder and only meaning her crowd of onlookers is getting bigger - she silently and slowly kneels and then gets down onto her position, resting her upper chest and left arm on the bag of rice and finding it very uncomfortable.

Sobel shakes the glass in the air and sets it on the ground, easily more than 300 feet away.

“Three!” he shouts again, just in case she didn’t understand him before.

“For heaven’s sake” she hears someone mumble near in disbelief, she doesn’t turn to look at him - not that she’d be able to find him anyway.

“Told ya to keep it up, boy” Christenson’s voice comes up among all the excited bets being placed. “That’s the big bad wolf right there” he laughs. Olivia clenches her teeth.

The M1 is less practical to maneuver, and she’s just getting into position when she hears someone coming up to her. Shiny boots.

“Get up, private” Lewis Nixon demands, impassible.

She doesn’t flinch.

Isn’t Sobel the one who’s got the last say, anyway?

“No, sir. I’m fine.”

“You’re panting like a dying goose, you’re not gonna hit that target now get on your feet.”

She still doesn’t move - despite knowing he’s damned well right. She’s only postponing the inevitable. That is a fucking transparent glass - it’s dark and she doesn’t even have the proper equipment.

She sighs, focuses on slowing down her breaths. She’s shaking too much.

“Got nothing to lose sir, I fail I go.”

The Lieutenant lingers for a bit longer, as if battling with his thoughts. He gives up shortly after and takes a few steps back towards the men.

Sobel is impatiently waiting at a safe-distance from her target - an insulting stretch of land, she thinks, and it only helps to feed her resolve to make it burst into a million tiny pieces of glass right in front of him. She’s still not ready, though, and with half of Easy Company on her rear being inconsiderately loud, she’s definitely not coming down her hype any time soon.

“Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye…” a mocking voice sings near, laughter follows.

I will be saving your fucking asses, you bunch of ungrateful idiots.

“Cheeri-o, here I go, on my way!” a few more voices join in.

When she sees Sobel taking a step towards them she gets lower - even closer to the ground - and rests her finger on the trigger to gain herself some time. She can barely make out the shape of the glass by squinting her eyes. It’s too damn far!

“Ey blondie, think ya could aim a little more to the left and up?” Someone jokes near, and that nearly prompts a laugh out of her. Good to know someone’s sharing her sentiment.

She takes the first shot in between heartbeats - just as she’s learnt and just as she’s always succeeded in hitting her targets before.

This one she doesn’t hit.

She tries to drown out the whoops and giggles from behind and clear her mind - closing her eyes, breathing down deep, deeper. Letting the air out slowly through her mouth and completely shutting one eye to get a better perspective - it doesn’t make much difference: the next shot doesn’t reach its target either.

Sobel starts making his way back, swaying proudly like the egotistical asshole he is.

‘Don’t dwell on it, just shoot. Don’t think, if you’re calm enough you take the shot, you’ll have mayhem around you, you don’t have time to think! Time is not on your side! Just. Shoot.’

At the sound of the glass exploding, she sees Sobel turn around abruptly to confirm what he’s just heard has actually happened - to be honest, it’s his reaction what makes her believe it as well, and his unhappy face as he stomps his way back to the group. She’s still on the floor - frozen in place by shock - when a bunch of guys behind start cheering.

Actually cheering.

By the time she’s on her feet again, Sobel is nowhere to be seen and she feels a bit like throwing up. She only sees the back of Lieutenant Nixon walking behind the hellish Captain before she’s surrounded by men patting her shoulder and grinning at her like she’s their pet-puppy.

She’s never felt so out of place in her entire life.

“Holy shit!”

“Imma be honest I thought you were outta here” a tall blonde one says with a strong southern accent.

“Did you see Sobel’s face?” A shorter one asks to no-one in particular, excitedly.

“What platoon you on?”

Olivia turns to the ginger as everyone becomes silent and awaits her answer.

“2nd Platoon” she says, uninterested, still rather dazed by the whole thing.

There’s more cheering after that.

Another brown-haired trooper throws an arm around her shoulder, “Whas’ your name again?” he asks, offering a happy grin.

“It’s Oliver you muck!” someone provides near.

“Outta my way boys! Imma get young Oli here a drink,” he offers his hand, Olivia shakes it with her free one, still tightly holding onto the M1 Garand that isn’t even hers. “Alex Penkala.”

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 12 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11)

Nixon - May 31 - June 6, 1944 “The tables are secure?”



“Yes.” “And do you have everything you need for your presentation to the officers and non-coms?” “Yes.”



“What about the pointer?"


Nixon whirled around to face Emily, “Shouldn’t I be asking you these questions?” “Well, everything should be packed up. I just want to make sure. I won’t be coming until after you, so I want to make sure you have everything you need before I get there,” Emily explained. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. I’m not presenting until after you get there.” It was early morning and the caffeine from Nixon’s first cup of coffee was still making its way into his bloodstream. Headquarters was consumed with movement; staff members darted in and out of the building carrying boxes full of maps and tools, carrying footlockers, crates of supplies which they loaded onto the backs of trucks. Emily held a clipboard upon which she had pinned a list of everything their department was responsible for. They were on brink of the allied invasion into Normandy. Once they got to Upottery Airfield, Nixon would be responsible for briefing the officers and the troops on the invasion plan. Every day up until the day of days he would be working to make sure every single paratrooper knew every single detail of the plan of attack. The atmosphere was buzzing with energy when Nixon climbed into his jeep; whether it was nervous or excited energy he wasn’t sure. The airfield was alive with action when Nixon arrived; men were putting up tents, unloading arms, and other supplies. “Nix,” Dick Winters walked over towards Nixon, “glad you could join us.” “Hard to believe it’s really happening, huh?” Nixon replied. “Any idea of where we’re going?”

“Oh so now you want me to tell you?” Nixon teased his friend who had shown barely any interest in his divulgement of information before. Winters shrugged and his mouth turned up slightly, “I think I have a bit of an idea.” “Well good, keep guessing. I’m not going to be responsible for the leak on this one - too risky.” “What happened to my fearless friend?”

“It’s not fear, it’s embarrassment I want to avoid.” Nixon said wryly, “what kind of intelligence officer would I be if I let the secret of the allied invasion slip?”

Winters narrowed his eyes at him as if trying to read his thoughts. “You’ll find out soon enough,” Nixon said and clapped Winters on the shoulder. Nixon had enough time to get settled in and to oversee the organization of the intelligence tent before Emily arrived with the remainder of the intelligence staff. In only a few hours, Emily and Nixon had to brief the regimental officers with the geographical details of the plan of action and what resources should be expected. The execution order of Operation Overlord had come from General Eisenhower himself so of course, Colonel Sink knew what his troops' objective was in the coming days. But the top-secret campaign into Normandy was a battle that intelligence staff across the allied nations had been waging for months. Since Dunkirk, codebreakers, scientists, and engineers had been preparing to return to the continent. Nixon and Emily had been part of that effort and now it was time to fill in their superiors on every tidbit of information that would help them achieve victory. “Alright gentlemen, let’s get started.” Colonel Sink sat down at the head of the table that stretched through a large tent, one of the first to be put up at Upottery. Emily passed around briefing memos and situation maps. “In theory, the only people in the regiment who know the who, what, and where about this invasion are in this room.” Sink scanned the limited faces of the most senior officers, “it is vital that we keep information on a need-to-know basis. That being said, it's about time we briefed our troops so that they are prepared when the day is decided, which will be any day now. Cap’n Nixon, and his lovely assistant here, are to fill us in on exactly what we need to know so that you all can inform your subordinates on the plan of action.” “Miss Rooney will you be able to take notes?” Lt. Colonel Strayer asked from Sink’s left. “Oh, uh I-,” “Miss Rooney was prepared to present actually,” Nixon jumped in, “she’s a professional cartographer and is an expert on the region.” “Oh,” Strayer looked between Nixon, Emily, and the other officers in the room, “but you know this stuff too right Nixon?” “I do, sir.”


“Then why don’t you present the information so Miss Rooney can take notes?”



“Sir, I-,” Nixon prepared to object. “Lewis, let’s not bicker like old fishwives. The notes are important. No offense, but I trust Miss Rooney’s handwriting more than yours.” Emily and Nixon exchanged a frustrated look of defeat. With pursed lips, Emily retrieved a pad of paper and took a seat in the corner behind Nixon. The enormity of what was about to be attempted settled across the tented room once Nixon finished the presentation. Colonel Sink cleared his throat, “okay men, I want every soldier in this regiment to know this area like the back of his hand. Let’s get the job done.” Sink stood up, prompting the other officers to rise, and walked out onto the airfield.


“Nicely done,” Emily said to Nixon once the room was clear. She began collecting the maps and memos left behind. “Thank you for putting it all together.” “Happy to do my job.” There was a slight bitterness in Emily’s voice, and Nixon couldn’t blame her. “Hey, I’m sorry about,” Nixon gestured vaguely, “ya know, all that.” “Don’t worry about it,” Emily said resignedly, “story of my life.” “Yeah but you’re a professional, you’re smart and capable.” “Thank you Lew, but even you thought of me as a secretary when I first arrived. Remember?”



Nixon winced at the memory. He didn’t know what to say. It was true, he had referred to her as a secretary despite her significant professional experience for her age. “Don’t worry about it,” Emily repeated, “I appreciate you trying to stick up for me.” She stacked the memos into a neat pile within a manila folder. “By the way, I’m headed south tonight.” “Already?” Nixon asked. Emily shrugged and tried to smile, “well, who knows when the day will actually be. Could be in five days, could be tomorrow. Don’t want to miss my ship.” “But you’re not going day of right?” “No,” Emily shook her head, “thankfully. I’ll go over a few days later with the nurses and other non-essentials.” “Non-essentials,” Nixon scoffed. “That’s me,” Emily winked at Nixon. “So I guess I’ll see you over there.” The space around them suddenly felt heavy. Her words felt insufficient. Best case scenario, they would see each other over there and the magnitude of that reality was not lost on either of them. Nixon searched for the right words. What was there to say when it was only a maybe goodbye?   He didn’t even want to acknowledge the chance that he may never see this woman again.

“I’ll see ya,” Nixon settled on. Emily held his gaze and smiled softly; nothing more needed to be said. Then in a breath, she exited out the tent flap and out of sight. A moment after she was gone a thought popped into Nixon’s head. He bolted out of the tent flap after her, “Emily!” he shouted. She turned and Nixon felt his breath leave him. Something about her innocent expression drenched in the evening's sun was stupefying. Then her face twisted into disgruntled confusion, “what?” she demanded. That was his girl, Nixon thought. Nixon walked a few paces towards her. “I’ve got something for ya,” he tossed her a little box. “What’s this?” she opened the plain, narrow box and tipped the contents into her palm. Out slipped an ornate gold tube of, “lipstick!” she shrieked. “Yeah,” Nixon shrugged, “not that you need it. But I noticed you were running out.”



“Bésame?” Emily read the label, “where on earth did you get this?” “I have my ways!” Nixon winked, “look at the shade.” “Victory red,” Emily smiled up at him. “Perfect isn’t it?” Nixon allowed himself to grin back at her, “perfect for you.” Emily threw her arms around his neck, “Thank you, Lew!” “Sure,” Nixon unwrapped her arms, “anyways, consider that my parting gift. Gotta have you looking good your first time in France.” The next couple of days were filled with adrenaline and anticipation as the men of the 506th prepared to be called into action. On June 4th, they thought the day had come but due to poor weather across the channel, the jump was delayed. Nixon could sense the tension among the men. Few feelings are worse than hyping yourself up for something that wasn’t to come. There was nothing to do but wait. Nixon took a sip from his flask and wandered outside for some fresh air. The moisture from the storm cooled the evening air. He sighed in relief; just a few steps outside felt like an escape from the nervous energy that permeated the musty tent. Nixon took another swig from his flask and leaned against one of the stacks of boxes. He was so glad to be away from everyone - he couldn’t bear the anxiety of the other men. It was difficult enough to stay focused and too easy to fall into a pit of fear. He had to stay optimistic. Winters must have shared in his restlessness because Nixon saw him emerge from between two tents. “I think it’s clearing up,” he said. Winters gazed up at the sky. “Think it’s clearing up?” Nixon asked walking over. “Nope,” Winters said, pulling on his gloves. Nixon shook his head. Winters was the eternal realist to Nixon’s ironic optimism. “I think it’s clearing up,” Nixon insisted. The two men began to walk down the airfield, the gray sky hanging above them. Nixon didn’t have the energy to discuss the inevitable. Winters didn’t seem to either but seemed contented to walk in silence, which Nixon was not. Determined to think of other things Nixon said, “Five o’clock in New York,” he paused, “four o’clock in Chicago.” “Happy hour huh?” Nixon chuckled, this was why Winters was his best friend. He met him wherever he was. With only a few words, they were on the same page; equally aware of the reality that faced them but understood that discussing it wouldn’t change anything at this point. So why waste the heartache? It was one of the longest nights of Nixon’s life. There seemed to be nothing to do and everything to do at the same time. How does one prepare for an experience they’ve never had before? Everything was organized, everything planned to the minute detail but who was to say what would actually happen when they touched ground in France? No one knew because no one had ever done it before.


Finally, on the night of June 5th, the 506th Airborne was cleared for departure. They would be dropping down into Normandy in the early hours of June 6th, only hours before the armies would storm the beaches. Nixon loaded into his plane and sat beside Colonel Strayer. They each had a map in hand and were discussing strategy as the remainder of the regiment geared and loaded up. Nixon didn’t have time to be scared. He had to make sure that everything was ready and in position for the men when they arrived at the assembly zone. If he were being honest, he was grateful to have a distraction. It kept the fear at bay as they lifted off the airfield and flew into the setting sun.